


An Aria For the Throne

by CrescentMoonRising



Category: Actor RPF, Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF, History AU - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, World History AU
Genre: Arranged Marriage, England (Country), Erotica, F/M, France (Country), Game of Thrones-esque, Kidnapping, Love Triangles, Murder, NSFW, Political Alliances, Political Intrigue, Romance, Smut, Triangle, falling in love with two gorgeous men, historical intrigue, original country
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:30:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3452342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrescentMoonRising/pseuds/CrescentMoonRising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Kings, bound by long lines in their ancestry, will use all of their charms for the hand of a Princess. Her fate is tied to one of these men, as her kingdom is the key to their reign. An intricate web is woven of manipulation, greed and lust for the ultimate position of power. However, the decision is in her hands. Who will she choose and will it be for love or domination over England and France?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Kingsroad

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my newest adventure! Quick note: each chapter will feature the POV of one the three main characters. Chapter One is an introduction of Arianne as she has reached England on the eve of a feast where she will meet both King Thomas and King Benedict. 
> 
> Thanks to all my amazing followers who encouraged me to write this story.

 

* * *

## Act One, Chapter One—The Kingsroad

_Two brothers stand at the head of an elongated table—markings and indentations of the lands in their grasp. After years of battle, only one decision remained—how to separate the kingdoms into the hands of their now royal lines. Each man gazed at their hard fought spoils of the lands of England and France.  They toasted to their future sons, the ones who would maintain the strength of each family name. Those who would maintain the peace._

_It was impossible to realize at that moment, in their foolish pride, that their later generations would turn against each other in a battle for ultimate power.  Nor could they have foreseen the woman who would be at the center of it all…_

* * *

## Arianne

The music of hooves, accompanied by wooden wheels on the dusty road, sang praises to the King. The sounds fell in tune with the songbirds high up in the trees.  The brightly colored sparrows created a melody heralding the early morning hour. The burgeoning sunlight danced through the branches of the tress along the road. The countryside was bright, the air crisp, for a late spring day.

Arianne heard each sound as another pull on the invisible cord that entwined around her neck.  She was familiar with the situation, although not for herself.  As with her older sister, she had the knowledge that this day was a part of her future.  For years, she put her thoughts and fears farther and farther in her mind. However, as each season passed, the leaves bloomed and fell to the ground, as a consistent reminder of her ultimate fate.

She remembered her sister, years prior, as those days neared for her. How her demeanor changed from beams of the sun personified, to quiet and sullen.   Arianne remembered the deep azure blue water of their homeland as it surrounded their carefree bodies. She had fond memories of days dancing in the sun and splashing freely in the warm and open ocean waters. That soon changed as they each blossomed into womanhood. 

Arianne never understood the purpose of those meetings behind the closed doors.  How her sister changed during that time, a knowledge that permeated Sofia’s mind and soon after, her body.  How the older sister quieted, the light in her eyes diminished, as the days and months passed. Being four years younger, Arianne only saw how the terror crept into her sister’s skin.  The nights that were filled with tears as she cried into her pillows, while Arianne sat helplessly by her side.  Sofia wept over the unknown, the separation from her parents, her sister and their home, forever.  

Arianne held onto hope that the prayers they whispered each night would keep Sofia safe.  The evenings spent watching the rise of the moon with their fragile and tiny hands held together.  Their ritual continued until the day Sofia sailed off with her father.  

The day Arianne watched Sofia’s eyes grow dark and cold.

_I’m not as strong as my sister.  How will I survive this?_

She turned to her left, unable to fully view her father’s face as he watched the flowing landscape. Arianne knew it was not in her nature to question, to doubt the intricate plans that had been in place since her birth.  However, without asking, she knew the days of frolicking in the warm waters of her homeland had come to an end.

Her father’s personal guard, perched on his side of their carriage, gave the announcement: “We are nearing the castle, Your Majesty.”  

Arianne closed her brown eyes. Her hands remained folded in her lap, neat and pressed.  They matched the clean crimson skirts that flowed around her legs and onto the floor of the carriage.  Unable to hold it back, a small sigh caught in her chest before it escaped. She felt her father shift as he turned towards his youngest daughter.

“Arianne,” he breathed, his voice almost above a whisper.  It was barely audible in the confines of the small but ornate interior of their royal transportation to the home of the King.

“You will see, my flower. While this will be new and strange, you will survive. Remember who you are, and that you were borne from the land of my ancestors. There is strength in our blood that was forged from the power of the Southern seas.”

Her eyes opened to a receding line of trees as their procession pulled onto the last kilometer to the castle. The carriages vibrated less on the developed road.  The ground was smooth and level from the continual travels of tradesmen and foreign dignitaries.

Her father’s voice pierced through her inner thoughts once more, “You are of no ordinary family. In time, you will grow to understand all of this.  The reasoning behind the events of this day will be clear, this I promise you.”

She raised her chin in an attempt to keep her head held high against the weight of every emotion that pulled against her.  Her smile wavered on her lips, the fear coursing through her veins.  Sensing her unrest, her father grasped her hand in his own. His large and creased fingers rested on her palm, almost enveloping it.

“We are of the long lines of Moreno,” he said, as he stroked against her olive skin, clean and with _o_ ut blemish in her age _._  “We are from the ocean, my beautiful child. Remember, the rock has nothing against our will.  We have been forged in that strength throughout eternity, and that—  _that—_ is what will keep you safe.”

She felt the burning return to her eyes, and she bowed her head. “No, Papa, I can’t—“

“No, my flower. You can, and you will.”

She tried, with all her might, to keep the tears from overflowing, but it was too late.  They streaked down her round cheeks as she haltingly spoke, “Papa, I do not have the courage to become some stranger’s bride, to become a part of a land where it is cold and dark.”

“Arianne, you are my daughter— _my daughter_. While you will be connected to whichever land you will remain, you will always have your home within you. The blood of the Moreno will give you your strength when you need it.”  His voice was firm, a strike through the anguish that was threatening to break her apart.

She nodded, her breaths still rapid, as the carriage pulled up to a line of what she assumed were Kingsguard. There were only a few final meters before entering the gates of the grand fortress that housed the current royal family. The family who ruled this foreign land known to her as England.  

“Halt. State your business!” came the echoing shout of the Knights, their voices booming around them.  Arianne could only hear the words, watching the rest of the guard form around the carriage and the entourage behind them. Each knight was bathed in the colors of navy blue and silver. Their swords gleamed against the brightness of the sun that perched directly in the sky above them.  

She heard the voice of her father’s confidant, his chief advisor, from the front of the procession, “This is the convoy of His Majesty, King Moreno, her Highness, the Princess Arianne and the royal court. We are here for the reception by His Majesty, King Benedict and the royal court of England.

“We are here for His Majesty’s council as well as this evening’s feast.”

Her father murmured reassurance to her as the guards moved around the carriage. Arianne stuck her head out of the opening of their carriage to view the structures that surrounded them. A tall and formidable wall surrounded the area where a small bridge led into the heart of the capital.  

Once the confirmation of their identity and purpose was secured, they were escorted through the gatehouse.  Arianne was familiar how the palace in her homeland always retained the sunlight in the stones, the warm air caressing her face when she roamed its halls.  As a child she would dance through the beams of light that filtered through the cracks and spaces of every wall.

This was the complete opposite. Each brick was dark and solid.  There was no life, no energy, only a formidable sense of finality as they marched over the bridge.

At the porte-cochere was a gabled tower and oriel windows. The spires wound high into the sky, as multiple smaller towers framed the area to allow for a view of the grand and far lands surrounding the fortress.

 _That’s what this is: a fortress.  It is not a home.  It was built to keep others outside, and chain others within it’s walls._  Shivers ran down her spine and across her skin.

The carriage came to a halt in the middle of a courtyard.  Servants seemed to appear out of thin air and filled the area.  Within moments, crates filled with personal belongings were being removed from the dozen carriages behind them.  They contained pieces of her home that Arianne begged her father to bring with her on the journey. Remnants of a past that she needed, to remind her of that bright and sunny palace she would forever call home.

Here they were, several weeks later, and Arianne was faced with what she feared would become the final destination in her life’s journey. In the moderately temperate weather, her fingers were like ice, skin pricked with gooseflesh.

“Your Highness, Good Morrow and welcome to Allerton Castle. Before you are Ladies Sarah and Faye, they are here to help you to your chambers.”

“Good Morrow,” she said, her voice cracking under the reception of those around her. “Good morrow, however, I have my own maidens that have accompanied me on this journey.”  From the carriage that was positioned several yards behind her, two young women, with matching olive skin, emerged from the curtain and strode towards the Princess.  

“You speak perfect English, your Highness,” the attendant said, his eyes focused on the hem of her dark crimson gown, framed with golden lace and ornate buttons.

“I was taught your language since the day I was born. It is second nature to me,” she said, now focused on the buttresses framing the keep. The stones formed a foreboding shadow, as if they were another precaution to keep those in the castle from leaving.

Her ladies rushed to her side, helping her from the carriage down to the stone and gravel underneath her feet.  As Arianne watched her father’s trusted men circle around the courtyard, she could feel a presence next to her.

The two women from the castle fixed upon her dress. Arianne felt a wave of self-consciousness at their gaze.  She saw the raised eyebrows and assumed it was of the bright colors in her dress and the skin that was revealed along her collarbone.  She pulled her silken gold wrap tighter around her shoulders.

Her father appeared, giving her his arm as they walked through the large, faceted golden doors into the throne room.  Arianne’s eyes grew wide at the large chair at the far end, covered in blue velvet.  The large center triangle with its razor sharp ends, pointed upward from the middle.  Smaller chairs framed the sides, for the King’s advisors, the court, the Queen Regent.  However, she knew one chair was reserved specifically for the one who would be Queen. She turned her head as her stomach dropped, the little amount in her abdomen twisting like a coil.

A round and frantic looking man in flowing purple robes rushed to them, “Your Majesty, your Highness! Welcome, welcome, I am Sir Reginald, and I am the King’s Chief Advisor.

“I am deeply afraid to inform you that the King is detained in an unfortunate issue that required his attentions immediately.  I am here to show you to your respective chambers so you can have some rest as we prepare for tonight’s feast.”

Arianne stared at the little man, noting his obvious attempt at appearing larger and more powerful through the excessive rings on each of his fingers. He wore multiple chains that flowed against his neck, glinting even in the limited light of the room.

“His Majesty is not here to receive us?” Arianne’s father spat.  She could feel his body tense in her arm, the anger rising at what appeared to be a slight to their presence.

The advisor held out his hands,  soft and supple, “No, please, he is quite disappointed by this unforeseen predicament.  He will speak with you in due haste, I assure you, your Majesty.” He bowed, almost folding his round body in half.  

He waved to the attendants behind Arianne, “My Royal Highness, may we show you to your wing, so you may begin your stay here, at Allerton.  We will have a bath prepared for you as well, if that is what you desire.”  The last word dripped on his lips, staring at the skirts of her dress for a moment too long.  Arianne held back sound of disgust that threatened to pass her lips.

“That is acceptable,” her father answered, “I wish to speak with His Majesty at once, is that understood?” They turned away, against the pattering of the man which echoed behind them.

“Of course, of course, we will make every notion granted to you all. Anything you need, please allow us to serve you!”

Her father quieted somewhat as they were led through to a grand entryway to the royal chambers. Blue and silver velvet covered each stair.  More oak, more darkened wood, bolstered each room, which were illuminated solely by gigantic golden candelabras.  Her grip tightened against her father’s arm as they ascended. For a moment, Arianne paused at one of the windows.

Green land, as far as her eyes could see, spread out before her.  Lands, homes, small smokestacks floated along the treeline. The blue sky topped the horizon in her sights.  She could just make out the formation of the guards below them, the first line of protection for this stone fortress.

In the far distance, she saw another procession.  More carriages and horses, framed by insignias of gold and red emblazoned on the flags alongside them.  It was a huge caravan, at a minimum, three times the size of her own.  Her father tugged on her arm, thereby removing her moment of peace.

“Come my flower, we need to rest.  This has been a long and arduous journey to this land and I believe we are both tired.”  She nodded to her father and they were brought into a massive maze of interweaving rooms. The grandest of them belonging to her father, while a second series opened to her own apartment.  

Ladies Sarah and Faye scurried about, fetching items for a bath and accompaniments for Arianne.  She stood adjacent to the wooden bed, its height grazing across the ceiling.  Her hand floated over the tall posts, fingers running through the deep grooves. Once again, the colors of the interior were coated in dark blues: on the bed, on the curtains and in the tapestries framing the walls.  

“Leave me,” she whispered to her ladies-in-wait, and they took to the outer rooms to unpack the Princess’s belongings. Closing the doors behind them, Arianne found herself alone for the first time in as long as she could remember. She sank on the bed, the plush fabrics cushioning her into the soft sheets and cloth of the duvet.  

Her mind spun, her stomach twisted and her hands continued to shake with each halting breath.  Flexing her fingers in and out, she balled both hands tight into fists before releasing them with a gasp.  It was then she felt the tears fall from her eyes. The moisture dissolved into her dress, the colors blending into a dark and monotonous shade.


	2. Blood Does Not Make Us Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Benedict and his family prepare for the meetings with Arianne’s father and anticipate the arrival of King Thomas. Benedict struggles with the idea of a treaty and possible alliance, until he meets Arianne for the first time.

 

## Benedict 

The room remained silent as she stood by the Oriel window overlooking the vast plains surrounding Allerton Castle. The sun streamed through the loose wisps of silver hair tied loosely around her head.  

She clicked her jaw towards the elongated trestle table where her family remained seated. With one motion, she swiped her chalice and began to sip the maroon colored wine that filled the each of their cups.  Although she spoke to no one in particular, her three sons raised their eyes, awaiting her words.

“We need to make our position known immediately,” she murmured as her lips retracted from the golden cup, “There must be no floundering in any of our actions with these people.” With a swish of her long silver and purple gown, she seated herself to the right of the King, her eldest child.

Benedict watched his mother hold her cup out without a glance. One of the squires scurried to provide more wine for the Queen Regent.  Her deep blue, almost violet, eyes found his and he sighed with resignation.

“Mother, I grow all too weary of this foolishness. There are pressing issues to be addressed than the necessity of this meeting and these foreigners.” His mouth opened only enough to speak, his teeth grazing against each other.  He had the ability to grind them, even when giving speeches to his staff and subjects.  

Her eyes narrowed, “Do not delude yourself that this is nonsense, my son.  Your lack of allies has gone on far enough in your rule. I assure you, it will come to an end tonight.  Do you believe yourself to be an empowered state, unaware of the dangers that lay beyond our borders?”

She placed the ornate cup down and leaned towards him, “Do you turn a blind eye to the South, not as far as Estinès, mind you. The one not so far from sights? The one whose King and servants just passed through our walls and will sup with us tonight?”

He let out a growl, “It is ridiculous have all of these people milling about the castle for a fortnight. We do not require Estinès’ support in any plans we have for the future. We certainly do not need Thomas and—”

With a slam of her fist that sent both his younger brothers upright from their silent positions at the table, she snarled, “So damn short-sighted, just like your father. He never visualized the grand picture of what could England could become! How to expand the scope and breath of this country and how to strengthen his rule.”

Benedict was not surprised at his youngest brother Aidan, knowing the reaction his mother’s words would arise from him.  Aidan screamed, “You always speak of Father in such vile terms!”

Victoria whipped her head to him, the errant hairs of her loose bun falling against her alabaster skin, “ _Enough_! You have the same soft disposition as him. A weakness that is unsuitable for rule. Thankfully, it was fate that placed you third in line for succession.” Aidan turned his face from his family, hiding the tears which Benedict knew were about to fall.

She spat her words, “There was inherent weaknesses in your father’s bloodline.  For years he sat upon that throne: fat and useless.  All he cared was to maintain the borders of England.  A man content with what he could grab with both hands, never understanding what lay just meters from his grasp.

“However, this should all be an unnecessary concern from this day forth. If His Highness is careful and procures himself not just an ally, but a familial bond with Estinés this evening.”

Benedict pushed his feet back, the chair groaning against the concrete floors, “Enough with the discussion of marriage! I am sick of hearing about this!”

She shook her head, “Do you realize who the girl is that he brought here? His daughter, his last free daughter, is preparing to meet you this evening!  I do not need to remind you, that an alliance in words is strong, but one blessed under God is nearly unbreakable!”

Benedict stalked to the window, his palms resting against the cold concrete.  His eyes treaded down to the last of the mile long caravan entering into the castle.  The aggravation caused his face to turn crimson and the hairs on his neck and arms to raise.  With his hand against his mouth, his fingers rubbed the short stubble that appeared on his cheeks by mid-day.

The addition of his cousin from France and his enormous entourage enflamed Benedict’s rage even further.  He hated the idea of having Thomas here, in his castle, along with all the members of the Estinés company as well.  Holding banquets and summits was in his predilection as King.

He gazed over the green pastures, the flowing lands as far as his eyes could take him.  The periodic smoke stacks of the surrounding villages, accompanied by the stretches of forest, indicated those countrymen directly in his path.  Those who would be summoned in his attempts to control the lands beyond his his borders.  The lands he desired across the azure blue on the horizon. The ones who would be reached, by his hand, eventually.

His need, above all else, was to rule.  Nothing would stop his plans, as he knew today would be the start of his campaign.  

He never had to question his own allegiances.  Within his ranks, he could trust those closest to him.  His discontent of alliances or treaties were founded in his understanding of human nature.

 _Humans are fickle,_ he mused.  _They can change in a heartbeat._

Just as he turned and reached for his own chalice, the one with the crosses of their insignia, the door opened.  Ser Reginald stumbled into the meeting room, out of breath from the forty or so steps he climbed to the private apartment of the Queen Regent.

“They— _ah_ —they are here, Your Majesty.  His Highness and the Princess from Estinés arrived a short time ago, and your cousin has entered the walls moments before I left him to come hence.  The servants are transporting all of his items into the apartments on the West side of the castle. He—he has brought a great many attendants and squires with him.” Reginald’s eyes flit around the room, looking to the royal family for their reaction as his hands shook in front of his chest.

“Wonderful,” Benedict murmured into his cup before taking a long drink of the wine.  He hoped Reginald would take his leave, but unfortunately, he continued to speak.

“I must tell you, Your Majesty, that King Moreno was not pleased of the knowledge that you were not available to greet him upon his arrival.”

“So? Let him wait!” Benedict roared, and every individual in the room winced from his words, “He is here as my guest, within my walls.  He will be brought to me when I am good and ready, not a moment hence.  Is that clear?”  The last sentence was punctuated with his steel glare and flared nostrils.

Ser Reginald nodded his head, the rest of his rotund body bouncing with him as his robes grazed the ground, “Yes, your Majesty, as you wish, of course.” He bowed as he backed out of the room.  Just as the door was about to close, the Queen Regent called him back inside.

“Reginald, ensure that the dress sewn for the Princess is delivered to her rooms immediately.  You are to make it clear she is not to be wearing red anymore while in this Kingdom, understood?”  She dismissed him with a curt nod over the rim of her chalice, as she reclined in her seat.

* * *

Benedict marched into the bright and airy formal meeting room, housed within the West spire of the castle.  The staff prepared for the smaller banquet of this momentous first meeting of each leader.  His fingers grazed over a plate of various fruits, grabbing a few grapes in his fingers with force. Their ripe nature forced juice to splatter onto his signet ring, the one bestowed upon him from his father.  It was the former King’s last action, before he passed on his deathbed.  Not soon thereafter, his crown lay on Benedict’s head, and with it, the weight of his nation.  

As Benedict cleaned the ring, he heard the steady footsteps approach him from behind.  His eyes watched in his periphery as another hand reached for an apple before tossing it into the air.

“Do you agree with the necessity of this meeting today, Ser Crofton?” Benedict asked as he turned to his personal Councillor.  With a huff from his nose and a click of his tongue, Crofton twisted the bright red fruit in his fingers.

“Well, Your Majesty, you believe that we can bring England to the status of a terrifying and formidable force.  However, we still require backing in our campaigns.” He tapped the apple onto the table before taking a bite and turned to Benedict once again.

The two knew each other since birth. Crofton’s father was a part of the inner circle of the former King for decades. The two boys were schooled together, learned to fight together and at times, caused mischief together.  When Benedict ascended to the throne, Crofton was the only one he brought from that former life into the diminishing number of people he trusted.

Crofton continued, “While any lands that are in our reach would be easily attained with a ground force, the appeal of Estinés is his fleet.  Even half of a navy with ships as swift as his can be more advantageous than thirty-thousand at the borders.“

Benedict nodded, knowing that in essence, there was truth to his words.  He ran his hand behind his neck with a sigh and turned to the open walls overlooking the courtyards.  The late day sun shined through, sparkling across the gold accents against his tunic and ornate buckle.  His arm rested against the jeweled hilt of his sword before he sighed.

"I believe this kingdom is strong enough on its own. Our ships are sturdy and weathered many a storm.  I have not reconciled–” He was cut off by the doors opening and the lilting voice, already singing it’s gleeful welcome.

“Ah, cousin! Good late morrow on this momentous day! How good it is to see you again!” Thomas strode through the room, his elongated legs crossing the large space within moments.  His reddish-brown curls bounced against his head, highlighting the blue in his eyes. He walked past Crofton, arms outstretched to Benedict. The former regarded his cousin with complete disgust at his bounding cheerfulness.

Overlooking, or ignoring, Benedict’s visage, Thomas threw his arms around his cousin and laughed heartily, “My word, how the crown looks upon your head! A fitting match for a fit King. You appear as if it has been a day of great adventure so far?”

Benedict remained frozen in the embrace and waited for Thomas to retract. He roughly pulled his tunic down, “I am well, Thomas.  Indeed, it has been many years since our last meeting. Fortunately, today is under better circumstances.” Even though Thomas was a couple inches taller, Benedict peered down his nose towards his younger relation.

With a smack on his arm, Thomas bounced over to the elongated table, “That is true, father’s passing has been almost a decade. Well, this is a fine day for something celebratory, as a treaty, wouldn’t you say?” He motioned to Crofton who nodded his head.  Thomas picked through some of the bread before he took a seat, throwing his feet on an arm of an adjoining chair.  Benedict and Crofton’s eyes met before the latter broke the silence. 

“Good news today, we are blessed with temperate weather and plentiful sun.”

Thomas rubbed his beard of matching gold and reds as he peered across the table, ”Not to mention, a fabulous selection of foods for our meeting. I am looking forward to what your country will create for this evening’s feast.  Should be an exciting event.“

He murmured while grabbing a knife and a piece of fruit, "I heard the King from the South brought one of his daughters to this grand celebration.  Quite a fair maiden, traveling all this way to your gates, Benedict.”

“I would not know,” Benedict grunted as he roughly pulled out the chair on the end before he slammed it on the floor. Thomas’ eyebrow raised with a smirk on his lips as Benedict continued.

“I was not there upon their entry,” Thomas’ feet hit the ground as he leaned forward, the smile growing against his lips.

“Oh, stories of her beauty travel far beyond the borders of her fair land.  She is quite the woman, they say.  In fact, both of Moreno’s daughter’s have been written as quite ‘bewitching’.”

He sat back and crossed one leg far over the other, resting his hand on his knee.  Benedict reached for his cup with a scream for his squire.  Servants came running into the room, however, Thomas waved one of his men over to bring a carafe of burgundy colored liquid.

“You must try this, cousin. It is a vintage from the grapes ripened during our harvest last year.  A fine wine, you will enjoy it, I can promise you.”

Benedict twisted two of his fingers and three servants scurried over to provide the wine.   _It is good, delicious in fact,_  Benedict reluctantly realized.

He turned his nose up at the drink, “It is acceptable, Thomas.  This must have been one of the few good harvests you had in your country.  Shame that the winds and rains have been devastating to your lands for so long.”  His words brought a genuine smile from England’s ruler.

Thomas returned the grin with a loud laugh, “You are always so observant, cousin. Yes, but I must say, we are making great strides in my little country these days.  Our future is looking brighter and brighter.”

All eyes turned to the doors as King Moreno entered the room.  His Chief Guard stepped to his left, noting every individual’s position around them.  As more men walked through, both Kings stood to receive their guest.

Benedict was the first to speak, ”Your Majesty, welcome. My sincerest apologies for being detained earlier. Extreme business necessitated my attentions and I could not be removed.“ Moreno’s eyebrow rose before his large face turned into a smile.

"Well, I appreciate your hospitality, King Benedict. It is a fine kingdom you have,” he stated while looking around the dark, concrete room.  

“Our travels allowed us to view much of your countryside. You have beautiful lands full of green pastures.”

"I am glad you were able to enjoy the journey,” Benedict said, attempting to keep the smile on his face before he retreated into a scowl.  He felt the energy of his cousin next to him and with a wave of his hand, stepped to the side.

“King Moreno, this is my relative, King Thomas, of France. We were delighted that you requested both of our attendance here today.”  Hi inhaled to fill his lungs to capacity before he returned to his seat at the head of the table.  Moreno shook Thomas’ hands and the two made their acquaintances.

Squires and servants ran around the three men, placing more wine and more food upon the enormous table. Each ruler’s advisor remained behind their King, watching and analyzing every move that took place.

Moreno beamed as the room quieted down, “Well, my friends, it appears to me that both of you could use some assistance in your respective kingdoms.”

“I can neither agree or disagree with that statement,” Thomas said, the smile leaving his face as he sat upright in his chair.  Benedict watched his cousin, knowing how tenuous the situation was in France.

Moreno’s eyes turned to Benedict, “That is not to say that either of you are in a dire situation.  However,  the Estinés  armada  is formidable on the seas against any force that dares to cross its path.  I believe for both of you, trade winds have not been favorable these past years.  Crops can be renewed, but only with the correct supplies.  Borders can be strengthened and elongated, but not without the proper weapons and calvary brought to those areas.  

“All that is within your sights is not nearly enough to make your goals reasonable.  With the right allies, both of your countries could become empires in their own right.”

“What benefit does this alliance bring to you, Moreno? This is hardly a goodwill mission on your part.  The benefit for you in giving up some of your fleet must come with a price.” Benedict’s voice grew firm and harsh, cutting to the meat of Moreno’s purpose.

Thomas shook his head while turning away from Benedict, “You do have a point. Neither of us  have the naval appropriations that you have created within your fine country.  The benefits of a country bathed in the warm sun and embraced with temperate weather all year long.

"I admit, we do have our delicacies, each unique to our countries.  However, on both England and France’s ends, what exactly would you be looking for in compensation?”

“Well,“ Moreno mused, holding his chalice, “Alliances are expensive, this is true.  I would be giving up my own forces, but we could come up with what would be a good compensation for those benefits?”

He raised the gold up above his head, "I find the genial faces of friends to be much more pleasant than the face of enemies.  Over this fortnight, I could see us coming to the proper terms to make these friendships agreeable for everyone?”

Thomas smiled, while raising his own chalice.  Both men turned to Benedict, whose skin crawled with unease. His neck began to throb, an almost daily occurrence from his lack of sleep and constant tension.

He ignored the pain and mirrored them, saluting to the two men before him.  Two men, neither of whom he felt had said one word of truth during the meeting.

* * *

“Smile. If you do not take that scowl from your face, I swear, I will beat it out of you. I have no qualms about grabbing a switch in front of your Court and countrymen and use it until blood runs down your leg.”

Benedict allowed his mouth to curl while baring his teeth as he glanced sideways at his mother.  Robert watched in shock at the pair, and Benedict shook his head at his younger brother.  The last thing he needed was for the rest of the family to entertain his mother’s rage throughout the evening.

Ser Reginald called his brothers and sister to court. Soon Benedict and his mother remained at the closed doors of the Great Hall before they opened once more.

“Her Royal Highness, the Queen Regent and His Majesty, King Benedict!”

A gracious applause rang through the gallery as the two strode through the hall.  Benedict nodded, keeping the smile on his face while focused on the throne.  His chair of sharpened points gleamed in the candlelight that illuminated every inch of the massive room.

As he neared, he spied his cousin, at one of the seats on the edge.  Being family and a royal guest, he was given a place of honor.  He nodded to Thomas, allowing his head to dip in greeting.

I’d have been content with seating him in the stables, Benedict thought.

Both men wore their respective crowns upon their noble brows. Thomas’ was adorned with a Fleur-de-lis pattern while Benedict’s contained the traditional cross for England.  The two eyed each others adornments, the gold and silver buckles that crossed both of their bodies.  Thomas broke the glare with an upturned eyebrow, and a minuscule smile that played against his lips.

Thomas’ deep maroon vest and jacket contrasted against the blue adoring most areas of the Hall.  This was especially notable in the deep blue velvet of Benedict’s tunic and trousers.  As he ascended to his seat above the Court, he turned and waited for their guests to be announced.  

“Her Royal Highness, the Princess Arianne and His Majesty, King Moreno of Estinés!”

The gallery turned as one as the royals walked towards Benedict.  He saw Moreno, dressed in a golden tunic as he proudly escorted his youngest daughter to the throne.

Benedict could only make out the flash of copper skin, her glorious sun kissed hair as it curled down in cascades around the Princess’ face and shoulders.  Her body was covered in a gown of impeccable blue satin, accented by a silver dove upon her chest.  With a slight tug, Moreno motioned to his daughter to raise her head.

Benedict’s eyes grew wide. For the first time in his life, he realized how light could be encapsulated within a human.  Two round eyes, as deep a brown as the chestnuts that surrounded the fields of the castle, met his own.  Her pink cheeks were only as bright as the red stain that adorned her full and lush lips.  

While Benedict was cognizant that every individual in the Great Hall awaited his words, he was certain: no one was looking at him.  

His gaze kept him from noting one set of eyes that was not on the fair Princess.  Rather, they remained fixed on England’s King.  Benedict never realized how within this moment, his every breath and glance became a part of his fate.


	3. A Feast for the Ages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are finally introduced to King Thomas and his observations of the Royal Families of England and Estinés. Seizing the opportunity, he uses his charms and wits to move throughout the banquet to find more and more information that will help him in his own quest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Face claims for many of the characters, as well as those who are upcoming can be found at http://crescent-moon-rising.tumblr.com/post/112831901054/an-aria-for-the-throne. Please visit and tell me if you agree!

* * *

 

## Chapter 3- A Feast for the Ages

## Thomas

_This is quite the intriguing development, isn't it?_

Benedict's eyes opened wide at the sight of the Princess.  For a split second, it appeared as if the room went completely still.  The musicians in the corner ceased their melodies, the murmurs of the gallery on pause. One would assume it was all on cue.  For that instant, everyone became entranced in the silent introduction made between the King of England and the Princess of Estines.

Except one.

Thomas' eyes remained on the King, focused against Benedict's facial features.  Benedict’s mouth dropped open just enough for Thomas to note, before he snapped it closed.  With that motion, Benedict's back straightened, allowing his head to glare down at the duo beneath him.

* * *

 

"We welcome you into our Kingdom, as esteemed guests of these lands.  England is always pleased to welcome our allies to the South within our walls. To host the Royal family is our delight and privilege.” His face barely changed, remaining the rock against a tidal wave.

“Now, let the celebrations commence!” With a clap of his hand, the gallery broke into applause.  The large rear doors opened into another massive hall.  This one was appropriated for a banquet, allowing for room to dance in the middle. Food and drink flew upon the hands of the servants as they flit between the tables.  

Benedict turned from the gallery and began the procession, his loyal Concierge directly on his heels.  The Queen was escorted by her second son, Robert, followed by Edward and Livia. The last two demonstrated their boredom at the formality of the evening, neither faces showing any change through the ceremony.

The rest of the royals began their entrance into the Great Hall while Thomas waited.  He waited to observe the interactions of King and Princess.  The look of pure shock and horror on the young girl's face as Benedict turned to leave their presence.  The slight indignation that fueled the glare of the King in return as he gave a sharp pull to his daughter.  The concern that flashed on both faces of head of the Royal Guard and King Moreno’s private advisor.

As he stood quietly, his own personal advisor, Felicien, appeared at his arm.

“Are you well, Your Majesty?” Thomas turned to his dark haired companion with a smile and a glint in his eyes.

“Oh, quite. In fact, I do believe that this will be one of the most entertaining celebrations we will have the opportunity to attend.”

“More than the name day celebrations of last year for Your Majesty?” A knowing smile passed between the two as Thomas’ eyes returned to the fading figure of the Princess.

“Far better, my good man. We have quite the evening ahead of us.” He smacked Felicien on the shoulder with a wink and the two marched through the gilded doors. Each table was covered in the finest silks and illuminated with tiered candelabras. Elongated platters full of boar and foul were prepared for the esteemed guests of the King.

Although there was an undercurrent of revelry, a sense of ornamental brightness to the Castle, it retained a dark and foreboding aura.  Where the candles should have illuminated, they appeared to only highlight the deep and dark blues that covered every tapestry, every table.  As the moonlight shone its burgeoning breath into the arched windows, it only served to frame each area with a reminder of the darkness of the night.

Benedict remained at the highest point in the room, as his siblings found their places to his right.  The Queen Mother was seated to his left, followed by King Moreno and on the end, the Princess.  As the young girl regarded the room, her skin reflected a pallid undertone in her copper complexion.  Thomas mused that she could benefit from a full chalice of his wine.  

He hummed under his breath, catching Felicien's attention.

"I know that look," Felicien stated with a chuckle.  “I have a growing suspicion we are about to begin that entertainment?"

Thomas grinned, as his eyes gleamed in the heavy air of the candle filled room. With the grace of a lion on a hunt, Thomas strode to the minstrels in the corner, grabbing his own goblet full of his personal stock.  With a quick sip, he grabbed one of the violinist's bows and rang it against his cup. The attentions of the entire room turned to him and his smile grew even wider.  With his hands up in the air, he waited for relative silence.

"My friends, countrymen, my relatives:  It is an honor to be called royal guests of this beautiful country and to be hosted during this fortnight of His Majesty and the Court.

"As the esteemed ruler of France, we embrace the alliances as your friends to the  South, just as you welcome us into your lands and homes.  Through our introduction to the esteemed guests of Estinés, I find myself comforted by the warmth and kindness of our newest friends to the far South."

When his eyes trailed over to the Royal table, it was all he could do but explode into laughter. Benedict and the Queen Mother, while motionless, appeared ready to spring up and silence Thomas in any way necessary.  When his blue eyes fell upon the Princess, he noted the blush beginning to return to her cheeks.  For a split second, her eyes flit to Thomas' body in his deep maroon armor.

"I believe tonight will usher in a new era in our countries as we move forward in these new and exciting times. A toast to new alliances!" A cheer went from the crowd, with two notable exceptions at the head of the room.  

Thomas handed the minstrel back his bow, "Play, play! We are to dance, eat and drink this evening until we have all had our fill!" The musician's readied for their first composition and the Court members descended upon the floor. The King of France was not finished with his thoughts, however.

His voice rang once more over the music, ”Ah! But the first dance should be commenced by the King. It is, after all, tradition.” His eyes remained on the Princess, ignoring the stare of his cousin. He imagined that the latter's eyes turned a curious shade of red.  The audience waited for their King, not knowing whether this outsider, albeit a relative, had any clout in creating this moment.

On instinct, Thomas believed that the silver haired woman on the dais would not let this opportunity slip away.  He caught, in his periphery, as Benedict jumped. The action most likely from some type of violence underneath the table and free from prying eyes.  The King of England rose, squires assisting him to the side of the Princess.

None of this did much to remove the wide eyes and rapid breath of Princess Arianne.  Her gaze moved from her lap to the King as he approached her. Moreno’s face, warm and loving to his youngest, remained on her as well. He offered his daughter own before placing it in the grasp of the man on his left.  

Her hand jolted just an inch as it became enveloped by the large palm of Benedict.  The action was akin to touching a flame, as if Benedict's touch was a danger she should avoid.

Benedict led her to the expansive area where the Court, now paused in their place, awaited their King.  Just as the King’s hand clasped around Arianne’s waist, the music of a waltz ensued.  

_I’m sure he has the foundational knowledge of how to dance,_ Thomas thought while watching the duo begin their movements _.  He has perfect form, one may call him statuesque, even.  I’m sure in his youth, he had the finest teachers in this Kingdom teaching him to dance.  Preparing him for nights like this where he would have to perform.  Perhaps, even, in preparation for his Royal Wedding._

However, Thomas mused, the life, the enjoyment of the melody and in the dance was lost on Benedict.  The passion and desire brought forth when one is in the arms of another was missing.  He scratched his chin as his eyes followed the pair. It was clear, Benedict believed this was another duty to fulfill before the night was over.  

Arianne moved along with Benedict, halting at points for his sharp turns.  Her eyes would raise to his, curious as to the man who guided her on the floor. Throughout, Benedict kept his head high, above all others in the room.  Upon Benedict’s lack of interaction between them, Arianne's head turned as her eyes searched the room. They ended on the King’s Royal Guardsmen, who stood mere steps from the King.  

The music cascaded into another waltz, and Thomas could feel the breath leave Benedict’s body in relief.  Benedict halted, then bowed to the Princess as he led her back to their respective seats.  

The King of Estinés along with the Queen Mother appeared almost insane with joy as their children returned to their sides.  As if this one dance was the key to unlocking the romantic undertones within both parties. That their awkward introduction brought meaning behind the stars in each other’s eyes.

Thomas could not help the satisfaction at all of these opportunities presented to him.  What he had learned, after many years in watching and observing others, was how important these moments were.  While others may ignore the subtlety, he gained valuable information necessary to breaking other’s down.  

_These moments give me knowledge.  A knowledge of the inner desires which drive a man, or the secrets that hide behind a woman's veil.  They are all keys to unlocking doors to treasures even I can not fathom. These keys will bring me the power and respect I have longed for so many years._

He seated himself back at the table along with his kinsmen. Various plates of boar and venison passed through the tables along with servants holding massive decanters of wine.  Felicien smiled at his King as they both raised their goblets.

“As always your Majesty, you are correct.  Tonight is serving to become a delightful evening.”

“Oh,” Thomas smiled, his white teeth gleaming just before they tore into a leg of lamb, “That was only the first act.” He winked one of his brilliant blue eyes, gaining a hearty laugh from his advisor.

* * *

 

The Queen Mother stood at the precipice of the gardens which lay adjacent to the massive hall that housed the night’s revelry.  That was where Thomas found her, along with her latchkey Sir Reginald and her younger son, Prince Robert.  While the rotund man stumbled behind his mistress, Mother and son walked with a purpose.  They were returning from a stroll in the moonlit greenery as Thomas waited in their path.  

“Aunt Victoria! Queen Mother, it has been far too long upon seeing your beautiful and learned face.”  Her eyebrow raised at his words, although her free hand raised outward toward Thomas .

“Thomas, my goodness! It has been quite the space of time since we have been together.  You must be completely besieged by the responsibilities of your country.  To have you here this fortnight is quite the blessing.” Thomas linked his arm through his Great-Aunt's, dipping his head to hers with a chuckle through his teeth.

“I must say, the timing of this meeting with King Moreno has been fortuitous.  My country has been quite bountiful this year in our crops.  The true fruits of the lands of France have only just begun to show their sweet nectar.”

She nodded, stifling a laugh that attempted to escape her chest, “You must be grateful this year, Thomas.  Years of such horrendous weather, rough air and lack of rains.  To finally have a working industry, it must be such a relief to you and your people.” Her opposite arm released Robert's as they continued along a path that framed the interior of the Castle.

The smile grew on his face, along with his eyes, as they twinkled in the pale silver glow of the moon, “Yes, for so long we suffered such maladies.  It was advantageous to have such goodwill from our neighbors and to you and England, of course.  It seems, though, that we will be able to keep our own heads above such difficulties in the future.”  

Victoria nodded and wrapped her arm tighter around Thomas’ as he guided her through a smaller garden, “You see the turnaround happening so rapidly, Thomas? Well, you have much more positivity than myself.  Must be my age. You see, I’ve been through enough storms to realize when it is time to call defeat.”

_You’d like that wouldn’t you, Queen Mother?_

Thomas tilted his head back, never losing his grin, “Oh, Aunt Victoria, I doubt that’s entirely true.  You’re a matriarch, a fighter, much like the rest of our family.  Strong stock from which we are a part of their lineage."

_‘From the rocks in the Ocean, two brothers returned to conquer the world.’_  she sighed. “Yes, that’s all I heard from your Uncle during his years as he ruled these lands.  How his grandfathers, side by side, knocked both Kings of England and France to their knees.

“I have a difficult time believing that they were able to conquer these lands with only the skins on their back and their few countrymen.” She paused her steps, brushing down the silver lace on her skirts that was identical to the color of her hair.  

Thomas caught her deep blue eyes with his own, “I am not sure if I agree, Aunt Victoria.  I believe that anyone is capable of greatness, as long as their mind is sharp and their wits surround them.”

She hummed under her breath before speaking again, “That is true. You remind me, how is your mother these days? I haven’t had a raven from your Grand-Mere in quite some time.  Last I heard, your mother had fallen under one of her spells again.”

Thomas found his jaw clamped shut, the smile shaking under the pressure.  It took him a moment, one longer than he would have liked, before speaking.  He was certain the Queen Mother caught his pause.

“She is doing much better.  When I see her again upon our return, I shall relay you were asking for her and wishing her good spirits.  Grand-Merê would love to see you as well. Maybe after your eldest son settles with an heir you can come to our country.  You could enjoy the rolling plains and fields of gold as far as an eye can roam?”

“That does sound delightful, Thomas. I believe you are completely correct.  After my son marries, I believe things we will usher a new era throughout England and beyond.” She looked over Thomas' shoulder with a subtle nod.  It was all Sir Reginald needed to fly to her arm, his robes floating around him, as he escorted her into the Great Hall.  

Before she exited his presence, she managed to call over her shoulder, “A pleasant evening, Thomas. I expect we’ll meet again in the morrow.”  With a deep bow to her retreating form, he felt the presence of his cousin on his right.

“Robert. My you've become the strapping gentleman I have heard so much about. The tales of your successes at the Citadel and in your studies travelled far and wide. How is it being home, now that your brother has the throne?”

With a sharp inhale, Robert raised his eyes to the stars, “It has been quite the learning experience.  While I was away, learning to be a soldier, so much of  what I mastered was skill in strategy and combat.

“It appears, however, that Benedict will not need those abilities from me.  I have been relegated to a member of his council. It seems I am back to being an apprentice, learning the day to day intricacies of rule.  How does a King manage disputes over lands, the schedule to distribute the rice and grain supplies over the country.”

“Sounds entirely boring,” Thomas grinned as he regarded Robert.  The latter turned to his cousin, his eyes remaining on the gardens.

“Different, I’d say. Not much has changed from my father’s rule.  England may remain stagnant in it’s expansion, content with the continuation of it’s fruitful bounties. Benedict believes a fortified military is unnecessary”

Thomas hummed under his breath, turning back towards the gardens before stopping a few feet away, “Ah, but when all you have known is how to make life larger and powerful, it can feel constricting when that’s removed from your— _repertoire_?”

Thomas watched as Robert’s eyes turned downward to the gravel and stone floors.  He remained silent, and Thomas decided to seize the opportunity.

“You know, this new alliance with Estinés, it regards forces and military strongholds throughout the South. Someone who has good knowledge of working with the armadas and the fleet would be valuable these days. I’m sure you’ve been quite necessary to your brother in his confidence.”

“I haven’t been asked my opinion of late.”

“Shame,” Thomas said before turning on his heel, “I have always appreciated the ability of knowledgeable individuals to determine a good strategy.”  With those words, he left his cousin in the moonlight, returning to the revelers inside the Great Hall.

The dancing continued, through the dozens of courses over the course of several hours.  Noting his cousin, deeply engaged in conversation with his private councilman, Thomas felt himself ready for a dance of his own.

He walked over to King Moreno, as his daughter picked at a small cake that sat untouched in front of her.

“Your Majesty, this has been quite the lovely evening, would you agree?”  The old man’s eyes raised to Thomas, just as a grin expanded over his large features.

“Why yes, King Thomas, I would agree.  It has been a delightful evening so far.” Thomas’ eyes flicked to the Princess.  With a deep and exaggerated bow, he raised one hand to her, speaking all the while.

“Your Highness, it is an honor to finally speak with you.  Pray, I am humbled to admit that the words used to describe your beauty are far lacking in their effectiveness.”

Her eyes immediately dropped to her waist, along with her hands.  She nodded, knowing that it was good manners to remain demure in another King’s presence.

“I beseech a dance, if that pleases you Your Highness?”  His hand remained outstretched, although his eyes raised from their position to her own features.  He was able to hold back the smile that threatened to explode as he watched the blush run on her cheeks.

Moreno spoke up, “Yes, I think that is a wonderful notion.  Sweet, you do love to dance. Enjoy yourself.” Thomas noted the squire refilling Moreno’s cup once more, explaining the King’s glassy and unfocused gaze to the two beside him.

_Perfect timing,_ Thomas thought as he waited for the Princess. With a halting breath, she rose from her seat, pulling at the satin of her dress.  She walked around the table and placed her hand in Thomas’.  

He could not deny the sensation that ran through his fingers at her touch.  Soft, light, almost as if he touched air.  He led her to the floor, along with the preening eyes of those around him.  However, Thomas’ gaze never left the face of the Princess in his arms, not for one moment.

With a hard swallow, the Princess Arianne waited for Thomas to begin. Placing one hand on her waist, he began the dance, noting her initial hesitation and mimicking a slower pace of his own.  As the melodies increased, Arianne’s body relaxed enough for Thomas to notice.  Enough for him to now notice the beauty in his hands.

His eyes roamed over her bronzed skin, the golden curls matched with the deep browns as they flowed over her shoulders.  As they began to move with a fluidity that even surprised  Thomas, he thought he saw a smile run over her lips. Within a few moments, they were instinctively moving together, turning and spinning with the greatest of ease.  The dark indigo of her skirts skimmed the ground as they twirled to the minstrel’s lively song.

“Your Majesty is correct. You must have a great love of dance. It’s quite apparent, Your Highness.” His eyes dipped down to find hers. As she rose to meet him, the blush heightened on her already flushed cheeks.  

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she whispered, the voice floating into his ears like a song sung from a bird atop a flowering branch.  A fleeting thought of her skin, sans clothes and beneath his own, flashed in his mind.  

_She is entirely delightful.  I may have much to gain from this meeting.  More than I ever realized._

As the song ended, Thomas bowed once more to the Princess as her eyes remained on his.  The light flecks of gold sparkled against the deep green.  She bent her knees in a curtsy, and returned to her father’s side. Thomas watched her return, ignoring the stares of the others at the Royal table, those with less than appreciative gazes.

Thomas turned to his own seat, but remained standing.  While finishing the wine that remained in his goblet, Felicien’s words permeated his inner thoughts. 

“Enjoying yourself, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, my good man.  I think, however, it is time to find an establishment to cater to our whims.  I am in desperate need of the company of someone with skin as soft as the one I have just held.”

“We have the entourage in the rooms?”

Thomas shook his head, after removing his crown.  The auburn curls danced over his brow as his lips shook in a smirk.

“Ah, they have spent far too long in our midst.  I require someone young, pretty and quite honestly, different from our companions.  A few someones, I believe would do the trick.”

With a knowing glance, Felicien took the King's crown and the two men exited the Great Hall. Without a glance backward, Thomas was aware of least four sets of eyes that followed him.

_An evening to remember, indeed._


	4. The Things We do for Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a tension filled gala with both Kings, we learn about Arianne’s past before she was brought to England. As she realizes that her future is to be with either Thomas or Benedict, Arianne begins to understand the game she must play in order to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading still, thank you! I hope to have more frequent updates and less whining :D If interested, Faceclaims for the characters and story boards will be on my tumblr: crescent-moon-writing and crescent-moon-rising.tumblr.com.

Arianne

 

The entourage walked in complete silence, save for the boisterous laughter of King Moreno.  Held upright by his Royal Guard, flanked by his advisor, he was able to maintain a modicum of decency until they were a few metres from the apartments.

“Ah, it’s all to be ours for the taking.  The world, it’s riches, the beauty of it all…all for Estinés!” His laugh was akin to a slap in the face to his daughter who followed him and his guard.  Her handmaidens all dropped their eyes to the lush carpeted floors, unable to keep the vision of their lady for long.  

The tears that threatened to escape for much of the evening, the pain that radiated from her chest had turned into anger.  Her eyes darkened, her fingers pulled into fists as they entered the rooms.  Xavier helped the King to his bed, where he slid onto the silken sheets, still chuckling to himself.  Arianne headed straight for her own bedroom, her maids fast on her heels. She made out the last words, “A force so powerful, no one will even dream to reckon with Estinés….” before the doors shut behind her.

“Your Highness,” her handmaiden Elissa whispered, before Arianne whirled around.

“All of you are to leave me this instant!”  Skirts flew and heels clacked against the floors as they retreated for another inner room. The door shut with a clang and silence wrapped around the Princess.

Regarding her dress, she looked to the blue velvet and fancy applications of the gown given to her by these people. Her fingers tore into the fabric, ripping and peeling the lace overlay and shredding it onto the ground. She went after the bodice next, her fingers unable to reach into the strings which held the material together.  Arianne collapsed onto the floor as the hot tears streaked down her face, finally breaking the dam that held for so many hours.

She felt the fool, the complete and utter fool.  Her belief that this would be for her greater good, this trip was to help and support her people.  Her duty was to her family, just as her sister Sofia, to make an alliance.

No, it was all for her father, and the drink proved her fears.  She was to go to the highest bidder, like a herd of prized cattle.  Her mind went to those days before Sofia left to her arranged marriage, and wondered if she too had realized her fate.  That the fabled daughters of Estinés were, in essence, bartering tools for their father.

The sob escaped from her mouth, just as her head dipped onto her knees.  When her eyes trailed upward, past the shards of fabric that littered the floor, she followed the pale moonlight as it shone on the carpeting.  Her fingers outstretched, she watched as the light changed their color to a sickly blue.

With a deep shudder, she stood and walked to the window, looking out over the darkened lands around the castle.  She held onto the metal bars, the cold seeping into her pores, causing tiny pinpricks across her skin.  She relished in the sensation, numbness having spread across her body—weakened by the emotions that rocked her moments earlier.

She never heard the door open, her eyes only catching the change of light from the torches that illuminated the outer rooms.  Arianne turned to see Xavier, his mouth open in shock at the sight of the Princess in such disarray.  She held herself together until the door shut before she raced across the room and threw herself into his arms.

His fingers dug into her back, the bristles of his beard tickling the skin on her bare neck while he spoke, “I am so sorry, Princess.”

“Please,” she whispered, “Take me from this. You promised me, Xavier, to look after me and help me. I can not do this, I can not stay in this horrid castle…this nightmare, for another moment!” Her mouth grazed up his neck before she found his lips, her fingers running through his hair. Arianne’s pressed her body into his, searching for the intimate contact. Xavier never responded, retreating from her body.

“Princess…” he started before Arianne snapped.

“You—you promised!” she shrieked, which prompted Xavier to rush forward and grasp her hands.  

He shushed her, attempting to calm her fears, “Princess, you must be quiet, it will raise the alarm to everyone in your father’s circle.”  Arianne pushed him away, although he remained holding onto one of her hands.

She gasped, “I do not care if they hear! I can not do this!” Bordering on hysteria, Xavier pulled her into his arms once more, while Arianne struggled to break free.

“Princess!” he hissed, “I know, this is not what you anticipated, but you knew it was to meet one whom you would be betrothed.”

“There are two! Two of these awful men who look at me like I am a piece of meat dangling from a hook! My body is to be sold to the highest bidder, Xavier.  Does none of this bother you?” She calmed, just enough to move closer to his face.  She followed the lines that etched from his eyes, the pain and longing that reflected upon her. Arianne traced one, leading to his temple.

“You swore, those nights we spent in my chambers back in Estinés, that you loved me.  That you would protect me from any harm that would come my way.  Was it all a farce, Xavier? Why did you come here with my father and myself if only to watch as I am cast away?”

He sighed, the sound pulling deep from within his chest, “Princess, I love you, and I always will.  I’ve never loved one as much asyou.  Your light, your smile— you are a treasure and beyond my imaginations.  Nevertheless…”

Arianne could feel with that one word that her world was about to crumble into a million pieces.  She felt as shredded as the wisps of fabric that peppered the floor beneath her feet.  Xavier’s deep chestnut orbs refused to meet hers, instead they focused on the colorful tapestries that adorned the walls.

“… I am your father’s advisor, and confidant.  If he knew what has transpired between us…”

She grasped his face towards hers, “He would understand! He would be happy to wed me with a man as honorable and upstanding as you!”

“No, Arianne, he would put me to death.”  He held her hand against his cheek, the heaviness creeping through his words.

“He would execute me and banish my family—my brothers and sisters and all their children—for being a traitor under his nose. You would be married in the same manner, and we would have no chance to ever retrieve you.”

Her hand flew from his face with such a force that one of her nails clawed into his skin.  Xavier hissed at her while her eyes darkened under his stare.

“Retrieve me? No, you look to save your own skin and your title. There was never a thought in your mind that you would attempt to rescue me from these men, my father included.  Otherwise, you would have never made this journey.  You came to ensure my  marriage, so you could return to Estinés with your reward for being a successful Advisor.”

“N-No! Princess, please!” he stuttered, however, Arianne backed away from him.

“Did my father promise you land? A castle, perhaps, by the sea? A higher title? Quite possibly, riches beyond your imagination? After all, that is what he’s expecting from this marriage, is he not?”  Xavier shook his head, trying to formulate words, all of which Arianne realized were a pack of lies.  

“Go.  Leave me.”

“Princess!”

“Be gone!” she screamed.  Xavier watched Arianne as she remained steadfast in her position, never moving to his pleading eyes.  With a curt nod, Xavier left, just as the tears began their flow from Arianne’s eyes once more.  She roughly wiped them away, clinging to the knowledge that she had one more opportunity to say her piece: the following morrow with her father.

* * *

The sounds of utensils clanking against the plates were the only noises head throughout the King’s apartment the next morning. Most of the servants and handmaidens remained far from the room where Arianne and her father supped.  Once the plates of meat and loaves of bread were presented onto the table, they vanished from the room.  Quietly stirring her porridge in the bowl in front of her, her eyes turned upward to her father, whose hand never left his temple since the moment he was seated.

His attempts at eating were few and far between. After only a few minutes, he maintained a steady consumption of the ale in front of him.  Arianne twisted and turned the napkin that adorned her lap, and she felt her stomach take the same motions.  As she reached for the goblet of water that sat in front of her, she paused to watch the ripples bounce across the rim.  How one movement would cause such a disruption…

“So,” Moreno spoke, his voice cracking under misuse, “Did you enjoy yourself last night, my dear?”

_I will use this opportunity and not allow it to pass me by._

“No Papa, I did not.”

He placed his goblet onto the table and met her eyes, “No? How come, my flower? You were with two handsome and distinguished Kings. I’d even guess they were quite enamored with you.” His eyebrow raised as he attempted a smile, one that Arianne did not reflect on her own.

“Papa, I’m to marry one of these men, aren’t I?”

With a deep inhale, Moreno sat back in the gilded chair, “It appears that while we were to come and meet these wonderful people of England, I find myself quite interested in the fact that both men seem to be working to their betterment of their countries.  Both would make a fine match…”

“I want neither of them.”  Moreno closed his eyes and when they opened, the small hint of light they held, vanished.  Arianne thought she saw a bit of recollection, as if this might have been a conversation he had before.

“That is not your decision, my flower.  You, just as your sister, are to be wed.  It is only right and true for a Princess.”

She turned in her chair, facing him, eyes pleading along with her words, “You can marry me to someone from our country! Let me stay within our own lands, I will help you and him rule—“

“No.” Moreno spat, the aggravation beginning to escalate, “This is not a discussion.  You have two choices of these men, and one will make you his Queen.”

“I would rather die!  I will not accept this!” she gasped, and then again when her father’s hand smashed against the table.  Cups overturned and utensils flew as he growled.

“You silly, selfish girl! Do you not understand what is before you? Something most do not have, a choice! Both of these men would make a fine husband, their countries would become your new home! You throw this in my face to squander it on a childish dream? Thinking you would be better off to fester while married to some man who is beneath you? Be grateful for these blessings!

“I was not given sons, but rather, daughters of beauty and grace. Just as Sofia, you are to be wed and continue to be royalty.  You are to be what is expected of every Princess because they can not rule themselves!”

Arianne grew silent, as fear and rage pulsed through her body.  She watched her hands opening and closing against the decorative linens on the table, dreams of the azure seas and orange sun fading from her mind.  

Her father stood and roughly pushed his chair against the floor, causing it to fall backwards with a crash.  Servants rushed into the room, along with Xavier, but all paused in a halt to see their King in a state of rage.  As the King spoke his final words, his hand shook as he pointed at his youngest daughter.

“I would suggest you acquaint yourself with this castle and these lands.  We shall be here for the foreseeable future unless circumstances change. If you decide to delay your decision, I warn you—I will make it for you.”

“Papa!” Arianne screamed as he retreated from the room and into his bed chamber.  Handmaidens flocked to Arianne’s side, while castle servants ran through the room, picking up items on the floor and cleaning the spilled liquids.  Arianne raised her eyes, to meet Xavier’s.  Words seemed to be floating on his lips, although none came out.  

Arianne rose from her chair, “Please help me dress, I wish to go outside.”  She was escorted from the room into her own chambers, passing by her former lover who never once spoke a single word.

* * *

_These flowers are so small.  Fragile, delicate, as if a sudden frost would cause them to close and never bloom again.  It’s as if they are always aware that at any moment, the weather could change and cut them down._

The wind blew through Arianne’s hair, prompting her to push a few locks behind her ear.  She pulled her shawl a bit tighter against her arms, although the sun warmed her face and tickled her skin.  She wondered how the weather fared in Estinés, if it was the season where the days had become so hot that it was only manageable in the shade.  How everyone came alive at night, when the citizens could escape the incredible heat.

Here, it seemed the same sun in the sky barely made a mark, bringing a bare amount of relief from the cool winds.  Arianne gazed over the expansive gardens, which stretched out from the rows of delicate pink and yellow flowers.  They led to larger walls of ivy over a pergola which ended at a small pavilion.  Inhaling the deep scent of the grasses and scents around her, she started to head down the path when a voice pierced the relative silence.

“Princess Arianne?” the lilting voice sang over her shoulder.  Arianne turned to the young woman, whom she quickly recognized as King Benedict’s younger sister: Princess Livia.

“Good morrow, Princess,” Livia smiled as she walked up to the younger woman, her light pink gown accented with hundreds of gold roses cascading around her.  A group of her own maidens appeared in the background, next to Arianne’s escorts.

“I am sorry we were unable to converse last evening. Appears you were quite the catch of my brother and cousin’s eye,” she laughed, a bit too loud.  Her auburn hair highlighted the jade coloring in her eyes, causing Arianne to stare a bit longer than was acceptable.  Livia outstretched her arm with a tilt of her head.

“I apologize, I am merely playing in jest with you.  Shall we go for a walk? The gardens are lovely at this time of day. Everything is in full bloom with the mid-day sun.”

Arianne gave a careful nod as she linked her arm into Livia’s and the two began a slow stroll.  The winds occasionally picked up, causing Arianne to once again pull back her hair.  Livia’s smile crept across her face, framing her eyes in a genial light.

“Your hair is such a beautiful color, Arianne.  Coppers and golds, colors we generally can not achieve in our country.  I would imagine that Estinés is majestic at this time of year.  I do miss how that country is alive from the sands and seas.”

Arianne quickly turned, in retrospect, maybe too quick, towards the Princess, “You have been to my country?”  

Livia nodded, “I did, but only for a day or two, and it was on a ship. You see, my husband went to attend to some business with your father before we sailed off again.  It was during our honeymoon.”

“Your husband…” Arianne trailed off.  Surely she would have seen another man with the Royal Family, had she been so fixated that she had missed him on the Princess’ arm?

Livia patted her hand, “Yes, I was married once. He was a lovely man, picked by my brother Benedict soon after our father passed.  The heir to a kingdom in the North.  He was part of a quiet country, calm and peaceful.  Not terribly cold, but not warm as your homeland, I’m afraid.”

“I am sorry I missed him, was he not here last evening for the feast?” Arianne asked.

“Oh, no, that would be impossible. I’m afraid my dear husband is dead.  I came home not too long after the primrose went into full bloom, so it must be close to a year, hence.”  Arianne opened her mouth, desperate to come up with a string of words to express her condolences.

Waving her off, Livia smiled, which lightened her face, along with the sun, “Please do not be upset, I spent enough time in my mourning period and lamented my loss. My brother immediately sent for me afterwards. With little fanfare, I was disposed of that country and brought home.  And now, I am, once again, without a purpose.”

“That’s not true,” Arianne said, “You could still have a purpose here.”

Livia chuckled, as her eyes roamed over Arianne’s hair, “In England? Hardly, my dear, that is for my three brothers to claim and rule.  No, since I was unable produce an heir to the throne for my deceased husband, even though our time was short, I was of no use to his kingdom.  The offers to wed me have rapidly reduced.

“’Tis no matter,” she sighed as she ran a finger through Arianne’s curls that surrounded her head, “I will find other ways to bide my time.  Speaking of, did you enjoy the company of my brother last evening? I’d say he is quite smitten with you.” The two came to a stop right before they entered the pavilion.

Arianne nearly choked on the words, wondering how Livia could tell anything from Benedict’s fierce countenance, “Y-you think so?”

“Absolutely, he may shield his feelings from most, but he forgets that I know him quite well.  I would hazard that you had both my brother and my cousin’s eyes last night.”

“What is regarding your cousin, my dear Livia?” The familiar voice rang behind both women, one that sent a shiver down Arianne’s spine. A flash of his arms, the red highlights in his hair that matched his armor, all were in her mind before she was met with them once more.

Thomas stood behind both women on the garden path, arms crossed but with a grin that reflected the sparkle in his eyes.  He glanced to his cousin before his blue orbs rested on the younger Princess, taking in her in once again.  Arianne was not used to such unabashed scrutiny of her body and she turned her gaze back to Livia.

“Oh, just discussing women’s ideas and thoughts, none for you to hear, my dear Thomas.” Livia’s voice remained light, but her eyes had considerably darkened at the sight of her cousin.

“Yes, of course,” he laughed, “I would dare say that would be too much for my ears.” With a deep inhale he clapped his hands before bowing, ever-so-slightly to Arianne.

“I was wondering if I could bring the Princess to view the rivers, it is quite lovely at this time of day.”  Arianne’s eyes flit to the elder woman who nodded in return.

“Of course, Thomas, after all, you are family.  How could I deny your request?” she then turned to Arianne, with a squeeze of her hand.

“This was a lovely time, I do hope we will be able to do this more often as the days progress in your stay.  I would love to hear more about Estinés and the beauty of your lands.” With a curtesy to Thomas, Livia left the two on their own, headed back to her handmaidens.  

For that brief moment, Arianne considered following Livia back to the castle.  However, she knew, deep in her heart, she needed to remain right where she stood.  

“Good morrow, Your Grace,” she breathed, feeling her chest tighten as she spoke, her nerves and excitement betraying her.  

He chuckled, “Good morrow, Your Highness, but please, call me Thomas.  It is silly to use such formal gestures here in such fortuitous circumstances.” He bounced in his heels, prompting Arianne to wonder if he ever stopped moving.  

“As you wish, Thomas,” the word causing her to lose her focus before he broke through her reverie.

“Shall we look at the river? Although I believe these streams are nothing compared to what you have in your homeland,” and with a twist of his elbow, he waited for her to join his side. They soon found themselves atop the pavilion, viewing the waters which flowed into a large inlet that cascaded to the sea.  The water shimmered in the afternoon sun, and the duo listened to the birds as they serenaded them from the lush trees around the gardens.

“It must be a long time since you’ve seen your home.  Do you miss it, your Highness?” She wanted to tell him to call her by her name as well, but formality and good manners precluded that from happening.

“More than I can bear, Thomas,” she said. Her voice halted on his name but quickly spoke to cover herself, “I will have to remember it often so I never forget.”

Thomas turned his eyes to the ground as he shook his head, “I can imagine.  It has been a few years since I have been home.”  When Arianne tilted her head for him to continue, the smile returned, as well as his eyes to hers.

“I have been trying to secure my homeland’s viability for the past few years.  I travel with my advisors and write to them often, but it is hard when you miss your family.”

“Would you return soon? I did hear some saying last evening that France is close to becoming another powerful kingdom again.”

Thomas quieted for a moment, and Arianne believed she misspoke before Thomas chimed in, “I’m glad to hear people are saying that, your Highness.  I hope that after this visit and discussions with your father, that it will be true and I can return home.”  With those words Arianne realized that part of those discussions were about her, and the notion became as clear as the skies above her.

Both England and France were in desperate need of an ally, a support.  Securing a political marriage would bring that to their doorstep, meaning Arianne was the key player.  She had two choices, not just in the men who she might marry, but in how she would help their countries.  In essence, part of her father’s deviousness allotted her this power.  A power she did not even realize, until that moment, was within her grasp.

She was not a pawn in the game, as she so feared. In truth, she had the opportunity to control the board.  Thomas and Benedict were to her whims, if she so wanted them, and it would come down her beliefs and her thoughts as to whom she would bestow her consent.  

_They need me more than they could possibly imagine…_

Arianne pursed her lips as she folded her hands into the small of her back, staring deep into Thomas’ eyes, “I wish that could happen for you, Thomas.  Our homes are so much more than where we grow up, it’s the place where our lives begin and end.  You and I, we would do anything we could to make our homes as powerful and large as we believed them to be when we were children.”

She leaned forward, the familiar scent of the leather straps that crossed his body wafted past her nose as she spoke, “I believe there is much you and I could learn about each other’s lands to be of help, would you agree?”  The flash of pink as his tongue darted from his lips was in time  with the darkening of Thomas’s eyes.  Arianne allowed her smile to open just enough to respond in kind to him.  Thomas had to shift in his stance to tear his eyes away from the Princess, and she inwardly smiled at his fidgeting.

With a crack in his voice he asked, “True, this is all true, your Highness.  Shall we return to the Castle? I’m sure your father is looking for you, especially when your handmaidens are scattered throughout the garden.” The chuckle that went through his chest made Arianne giggle while she grasped his arm, looping into the elbow.  She could have sworn he held his breath for the briefest of seconds while they connected their bodies.

Thomas walked her down the garden path until she was met by her maidens, all with eyes wide as saucers before she turned to him, “I appreciate this walk today, it was lovely to speak with you.  I anticipate you will be busy with managing your duties, but I would love to spend more time with you in the future.”  She allowed her hair to drape enough to show the skin of her neck, prompting Thomas to take a hard swallow.

“Yes, your Highness, that would be most kind of you. I anticipate the same.” With a kiss upon her palm and a nod to the maidens, he strode back towards the castle.  Arianne focused instead on the gardens, looking over the flowers, and the similar colors of each grouping.

_This garden needs more color, bigger flowers. That will be a suggestion I shall make in the near future._

When she turned back to the castle, she noted a figure in the upper rooms, watching the group of women as they strode through the sun.  As they closed into the shadow of the high battements, she recognized him—Benedict.

With a deep inhale she stopped in her stride, and she thought she noted him straighten his back at her gaze.  Placing one hand under her breasts, and raising her head high, she waved to him with the opposite, allowing her face to blossom into a large smile.

Arianne held back the gasp that threatened to fly off her lips when Benedict’s hand raised and he waved back to her.  With halting breaths, she watched as his mouth turned upward into a smile, one even Arianne believed was genuine.


	5. Into The Lion's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arianne places her strategy into motion to determine whose favor she will bestow her hand. However, she is unaware that many other forces are in play to make the decision for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you if you're still reading, as this is now four months from the last update! This has been part of my NaNo projects and I hope that you enjoy it. If you do, please PLEASE let me know. Feedback has been my lifeline, especially with this. :)

## Chapter Five– Into The Lion’s Den 

Arianne pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she descended the adorned main staircase.  _I wonder if in the highs of summer if this palace ever warms to a temperature close to temperate._ It felt as if the scaffolded bricks that lined the walls puffed a small breeze as she moved past.  

She held her head high as she walked through the doorway of the main dining hall, noting a few of her father’s men at one of the long wooden tables on her right.  Immediately they rose to their feet to wish her good tidings before she waved them back to their seats.  Her eyes flit to the table upon the dais, and she smiled brightly as she marched forward.

“Livia, Your Highness,” she said with a small curtsey and fanning out her white and navy gown, “Good Morrow to you.”

Sparkling green eyes met Arianne’s and Livia’s pursed smile belied the lilt in her voice, “Oh, Princess, it is so good to see you! Please, come and sit with me here, you must be famished.” Livia waved her hand and Arianne nodded gratefully before circling the table.  A rush of attendants helped Arianne and seated her on Livia’s right.  

The King’s sister’s eyebrow rose as she replaced her napkin on her lap, “It is good to see you out of your rooms, Arianne.  I was afraid you turned ill.”

Arianne shook her head, the few loose ringlets from the chignon atop her head bounced from her neck, “No, as a matter of fact, I have spent my days consistently engaged.  I have had a chance to return to the magnificent gardens that we visited those days earlier and I have taken my maidens on a ride past the gatehouse and towards the fields. Additionally, Ser Reginald took us out past the farmlands yesterday to see the grain being planted for the castle.”

“My!” Livia said before spooning a bit of jam onto her plate for her bread and cheese, “You have been occupied.  Maybe it has been my own daily necessities that caused us to miss each other in the hallways.  Allerton Castle has so many of them, it’s only natural that we might reside on the same floor and never see each other.” Her eyes lingered on Arianne before she turned to her plate of food.

Arianne sighed with discontent, “Well, I must admit, I have been occupied by my Father.  Only natural for us, being in a new country with all these new people and exciting places to explore.  It’s quite an adventure we’ve embarked upon here in your beautiful lands.” Arianne inhaled quickly before a plate appeared in front of her.  Grasping her napkin, she tried to hold back the shaking of her hands, hoping the innocent excitement that peppered in her speech did not come off as false.

Livia’s eyebrow raised, only momentarily, before she spoke, “It is good that you are leaning about the culture here in England.  There is much that you enjoy and can experience with your Father, or with others during your stay.”  With a glance at her plate she sighed before she sat back in her chair, swirling her goblet.

“Have you found our people, the castle, agreeable?” she asked. Arianne dabbed at her lips with a napkin before taking a sip of her water.  She wanted to time her words perfectly, and not rush them.

“Well, yes, I have.  Everyone has been very kind and helpful, quite helpful in fact.” Livia turned to Arianne, but before she could query further, Arianne pushed forward.

“I am a bit disappointed however, I hoped to at least thank the King personally for his hospitality. The feast for my Father, myself and our court could only be described as magnificent. I know my Father has spoken with him, but we have not had a chance to converse yet, since my arrival.” Arianne held her breath to stop herself from speaking.  She knew to keep what she said as brief and to the point as possible.

Livia’s face fell, “This is disappointing to hear. I can not speak for my brother, but he has many responsibilities as King—“ Arianne jumped in, remaining steadfast with her exuberant personality.

“I do not fault him, not one moment! My father is constantly required throughout the day, with so much to do and so many people who need his council.” Arianne turned to look at the growing number of people in the hall before she dropped her voice.

“I also wanted to thank him for our dance.” She waited and as Livia’s eyes focused on her face, Arianne turned hers down to her lap.  She perked her lip into a small smile before she reached for another piece of bread.  It nearly went flying out of her hand as Livia’s fingers wrapped around her arm.  She realized Livia’s fingers were like ice, and it took every fiber in her body to keep from shivering at her touch.

However, the smile that enveloped her face only reflected warmth, “I know he felt the same.  I believe it will give him great comfort that you enjoyed your time with him.” With those words, Livia rose from her seat and her attendants helped adjust her gown.  Both women’s attentions were turned when a peal of laughter echoed through the Hall.

Livia’s eyes narrowed on the tall yet broad shouldered man with dark hair and dark eyes.  His flit upwards to the Princesses’ and with a deep bow, he seated himself with the rest of the men who accompanied him.

He was familiar, but Arianne could not place him. “Who is that?” she asked Livia.

Livia’s voice dropped to a muted snarl, “That is Capitan Felicien Ronaldo, King Thomas’ Royal Advisor.” She huffed before continuing, “It appears my cousin has returned to the Castle.”

Arianne’s eyes grew wide as she blurted out, “I had not known he had left.”  Livia reached out and her maiden brought a shawl before she smoothed out the pleats in her full skirt.

“Yes, it seems he was out looking at some of the southern countryside in the hopes of returning to his country with some new seedlings for the crops.  He is desperate to help the regions that have been in such a drought for the past half decade.” With one last glance at Felicien, she turned back to Arianne.

“Enjoy your meal, Princess.  I do hope you find yourself a lovely adventure this day.  And, if your’e interested, I work on my needlepoint right before teatime in the afternoons.  Helps me to relax and calm my mind before I find myself overwhelmed by the stress of my days.  Please feel free to join me in my rooms if the chance ever finds you.” With a lingering hand on Arianne’s shoulder, Livia left the Princess’ side and walked through the throngs of attendants and soldiers, advisors and guards.  All stood to her presence, yet she acknowledged none.  

Arianne hoped that Livia’s destination was to her brother, and hopefully to broker a meeting.  While she realized Benedict was out of her hands, she also realized that she had another party to contend with in this palace.  She rose from the dais; her hunger now satiated for the time being and headed down the aisle, her maidens behind her.

With a wave she nodded to her countrymen before pausing at the table of rough-looking Frenchmen.  They all rose to their feet as well, some stumbling a bit when they realized she was waiting.

“Good Morrow, sers, I am relieved to find you have returned to Allerton.  Please let your King know that I am glad to hear he has returned, as well.”  

Felicien bowed again, with a pursed lip and chuckle, “Yes, Your Highness, I will go and tell my King of your good wishes with great haste.” With a curt nod, Arianne walked through the large doors, and headed outside towards the grasses at the front of the castle.

* * *

“Excellent form, Princess! Keep your arm high, do not waver on your post!”

Arianne closed her eyes and waited while the falcon above her circled before his descent towards the grouping.  _Skies above, I can not believe I’m standing, waiting for this bird to land and pray he does not attempt to take a nip at me._ Her breath remained in her chest as she heard the flapping of wings right before two massive claws wrapped around her wrist.  She peered at the large bird, who now huffed next to her, much to the applause of all the men around her.  The prize of a small mouse let out a shrill squeak before it twitched once or twice and it went unnaturally limp.  

With a shudder, she extended her arm as Ser Reginald came over to pull the dead rodent out of the falcon’s mouth before he released her arm, “Princess! For your first time you guided him fantastically! My goodness, I’d even say you had a natural knack for this! I believe—well, yes I think you should—visit the aviary, when you can, and meet the rest…”

She hoped that the disgust that she felt in her body as the unease in her skin began to dissipate did not show on her face.  While Ser Reginald continued to prattle on about her skills, her attendants and members of her father’s court fell silent.  The sound of hooves caught her attentions next, as her eyes fell upon the sight of several horses clad in royal blues and silver.  The banners that flapped against the intermittent breeze in the field mimicked those colors, along with the pale pink rose that adorned the upper corner.  

Grateful for the intrusion, which at the least prompted Ser Reginald to cease prattling, she felt the disgust replaced by elation as she recognized the familiar face.  King Benedict rolled through the crowds and dismounted before the horse barely came to a halt.

“Your Grace! Welcome! Welcome, we are so glad and humbled that you would join us on this fine afternoon and—

“Yes, thank you Ser Reginald,” he snapped all while his blue eyes remained firmly on Arianne.  “Princess, I am so glad to have found you.  I am surprised to find you partaking in such formal matters at the castle.” While Arianne noted the stiffness in his stance, the piercing cold in his stare, she could sense a fleck of curiosity in her actions.

Walking from Ser Reginald toward the King, she let loose a giggle before speaking, “I am learning much of your Kingdom, Your Grace.  I thought it wise, rather than spend my day confined to the tiny walls of my rooms when I can spend it here in the outdoors?”  His mouth raised a bit, just as his eyebrow.

“Indeed.  Although, I’d gather the light is beginning to fade from this area.  Would you care to accompany me on my return back to the castle?”  He held out his arm, and Arianne immediately accepted, noting that the question was not entirely a request on his part.

She silently thanked the stars for their alignment.  All went according to how she had planned, right down to her being in the southern grasses when the King returned from his inspection of the grain mills.  She knew that partaking in one of his favorite sports would be key, and her success on the field that afternoon was surreptitious beyond her beliefs.

The cold from the pieces of metal that adorned his chest permeated her layers, and he held her firm against his body as they began their journey. She could hear the rustling of her court’s skirts behind her as the continued up a small hill towards one of the gravel roads. She could make out the small path that would eventually run into the grander roadway into the massive gates.  Those gates were same ones that she rode through no more than a handful of days prior.

Arianne waited, like a patient girl, for Benedict to break the silence, remaining quiet and proper in his presence.

“I apologize that we have not been able to converse since the ball the other evening,” he began. “With the arrival of my cousin, along with you and your father, it’s been quite daunting to keep up with the daily holdings around me.  However, it’s not proper for a King to allow guests of his country to not feel welcome.  It is disappointing that I have not been available for you, Princess.”  His eyes, seemed to turn even bluer than before as she glanced upward, noting the friendliness in his voice.  While she could not yet determine if it was genuine, she had no choice but to proceed.

She tightened her arm around his, pulling her body closer to him, “It is no issue of mine, Your Grace.  After all, you are the King of a large and growing country, I would never assume to expect that I am a priority to your schedule—“

“—But you are,” he said, interjecting her thoughts.  His outburst caused Arianne to halt in her pace for a split second.  She held her breath while he continued, her skirts catching on her shoes as her feet picked up.  Benedict’s eyes flit around the grasses in front of them before his mouth perked into a half smile.

“What I mean to say is, that your presence here is not a burden in any capacity.  You should not be relegated to your tours of these areas by Ser Reginald.  As welcome guests, you should be accompanied by myself.”  Instead of attempting to speak again, Arianne merely nodded.  An uncomfortable chuckle rumbled through Benedict’s chest as they continued their walk in a bit of silence.  

“He talks too much, I find.  Quite exasperating when it’s early in the day. He tends to go on and on about the most trivial of items and yet never seems to understand that his silence would be welcome, more often than not. My mother gives him too long of a leash here in his activities.” His mouth opened again as Arianne’s went wide and Benedict sighed, “I guess I just did some of those same actions, I’m afraid.”

 _He’s uncomfortable, it’s as if he’s never spoken to a woman before._ Arianne let out a laugh, as genuine as she could manage and the creases in his forehead relaxed, if only for a moment.  However, it was his eyes, the light blue that sparkled at her, which gave her pause.

“Y-You are right, Your Grace.  I think at one point I almost missed the retrieval of my falcon because Ser Reginald kept praising me on my form.” Benedict returned the laugh and she felt a breath rise in his body.  They continued upon the far gardens, the ones Arianne learned were only for the Queen and her court when she wished to take her tea within the sunshine.

The flowers were larger, fuller than the ones Arianne had seen in the days prior.  The Queens personal topiaries grew only the most delicate and fragrant species Arianne had ever seen.  She was transported back to the gardens that were at the edge of her childhood home, sounds of the surf crashing against the solid concrete walls as she played with her sister in the forceful sunlight.  Each flower bloomed with multiple colors, sometimes their fragrances lasting well into the evening.  She smiled at the memory of those nights, the same scents wafting into her window as she stared at the sea beyond their lands.

Arianne instinctively walked towards them, and she did not realize it until Benedict broke through her thoughts, “You fancy the flowers in these gardens, Princess?”

With a snap of her head she turned to him, a blush running on her cheeks, “Yes, Your Grace, they are beautiful. This one is reminiscent of one that grows in my land when the cool rains cease and the temperate airs return.” Her free hand reached for one of the white roses that bloomed in front of her when Benedict moved first and twisted the stem, releasing it from the vines.

As he handed it to her and she smelled the perfume, a familiar one since she had entered the gates of his castle, Benedict murmured, “I believe there is something you might enjoy, Princess. May I?” and she agreed, now curious as to his thoughts which had turned from his thinly veiled attempts to catch her attentions, but to something that might be more genuine.  Waving off her maidens to return into the castle, she followed Benedict alone, through the paths to the interior of the maze of lush greenery that framed Allerton.

They walked through the gardens, past the trellis and overhanging branches towards another, less tread path.  Now in the shadow of the immense stone walls, Arianne felt the chill of the mid-afternoon, the breezes that were blowing from the fields behind them.  She moved closer to the King, garnering a side glance before they continued.

Benedict walked them through a small arch, and soon Arianne heard the clinking and chatter of the lower levels of the Castle.  Rich scents of spices and the acrid singe of roasting meats crossed their path.  

As though they were on a quest that was forbidden, Benedict led Arianne to the perimeter of the kitchen gardens and with a gleeful smile, ran his hand across several meters of ivy coated brick before he halted.  Never relinquishing her arm, he pulled back the vines until he found what he was looking for.  Arianne watched as a gold circle appeared as Benedict twisted it and suddenly the wall moved.

It was not the wall,  but in fact, a door that opened and Arianne moved forward into a small enclave that was brimming with flowers.  Little butterflies floated around the area and moss had appeared on the insides of the walls, creeping up and over.  The walls were only slightly higher than Benedict and he watched the Princess as she carefully tread into the space.

She could listen to the sounds of the insects, the songs of the birds as they swooped in and out for hours.  Her eyes closed, listening, hearing all of this life that spread around her and she realized she was smiling.  For the first time since she boarded the vessel that took her to this land, a genuine smile had appeared on her face.

“Do you like it?” His voice was halting and yet, hopeful.

Arianne turned to the King, slightly embarrassed by how she had lost herself in the space.  “Oh, I do! It’s so beautiful! The colors and the flowers, this is magical!” Her eyes flit up to him and a twinge of excitement flit through her body to find him smiling in return.

“I’m glad, truly I am.  This is a place I’ve known for years.  When I was a small boy, I used to come here to read when my brothers would be getting into arguments or my mother would be chastising us for our difficulties on the sparring field.” His eyes roamed up to the height of the garden, a knowing look framing his face.

“So many afternoons here,” he said with a dreamy, faraway voice, “My governess had found this as one of the old spaces for the kitchens where they used to grow herbs and spices.  She asked the royal gardeners to plant some flowers and seedlings for me.  It was my sanctuary until I was too old to be allowed to dream and be carefree. It’s overgrown now, but—it’s yours if you’d like it.”

Arianne’s mouth dropped open as Benedict continued, his words stumbling over the other, “I- I know it’s entirely unacceptable for a Princess, and obviously we’d have a place for you in the outer gardens, where you can rest and take tea and work on your needlepoint or studies and—

“Your Grace, it’s wonderful,” she gushed, walking up to him with her head held high and her chest straightened.  “This is perfect, and while I would also be quite grateful for a place on the grounds, this is what I would adore.  A place all to myself, here in nature with the birds and their songs and the flowers—all of it brings fond memories of Estinés.” She held out her hands and grasped his, which were still strangely cold.  They wound around her fingers, tightening as his breath seemed to be caught in his chest.

 _Could he? It seems impossible_ , Arianne thought as she realized how much this meant to him, and he was giving it to her.

When he found his voice, it was louder than before, “Will you eat with me?” He then shook his head, realizing how it sounded upon speaking and he cleared his throat—the regal tone returning once more.

“Would you sup with me tonight, Princess?  I usually dine in my rooms, and alone.  It would be most kind of you to join me. I would love to hear more of your country and your time as a child there.”

For a brief moment, she was lost in his eyes again.  The clarity of the blue that shone through and the sparkle that returned more and more when she looked into them.  She felt as if those words may even be genuine, that he could be interested in who she was, and not what she stood for.

However, it was here nor there for her to determine.  An intimate dinner was the ultimate prize and she accepted, “Yes, I would love to.  Just allow me to change into a more suitable dining gown and to freshen up beforehand?”

His eyes lit up again, this time like a clear evening with a full moon, “Of course, allow me to return you to your apartments so you can do just that.” His smile never left his face as he walked her back into the castle and Arianne felt her own mouth perk every so often as well.

* * *

“Princess?”  Arianne perked at the voice of her handmaiden, Elissa, and called for her entrance.

“I’m so glad you’re here!  I have such interesting news,” Arianne gushed as she rushed to the dark blue gown that lay across her bed.  She chose it for her time with the King in mind, knowing that she would mimic most of the colors she saw in his armour. Her maiden helped her into it while querying her lady of the day’s events.

“So, it was all correct! I am so happy, my time spent in the kitchen and washrooms brought you some welcome information.” Arianne nodded as she sucked in her breath, the corset being wound tight against her ribcage and effectively cracking her back.

“Yes, everything you heard—the fact he would return by the South side and that he loves Falconry—it was all correct.  I could tell, he was impressed I did so well.” Her maiden grunted as she pulled hard on the fabric, the bones within the corset pressing against Arianne’s sides.

“All excellent news, I am glad Your Highness.  You’ll be able to find more about King Benedict at tonight’s dinner, and hopefully more of his true nature.  I am wondering, he seems like he may be an agreeable mate.”

"Yes, well, as the time wore on he turned that way.  It was almost like a fire gaining strength.  I wonder how many women he’s had over the years.  Seems he lacks some experience.”

“I wonder if his mother is to blame.  The servants appear utterly petrified of even mentioning her name,” Elissa murmured.

“And of the King of France? What of him?” her maiden’s voice was questioning, prodding.  Arianne quieted, remembering his auburn waves and the mischievous glint in his eyes.  She bounced back, being pulled tighter and tighter, until her maiden began to fasten the fabric at the small of her back into a knot.

“He travelled to view the grain fields. He and his party returned last night,” she sucked in air again, with the realization that soon it would be hard to breathe, let alone eat.  However, she had to put her best position forward, and that would be to fall into what she believed was the King of England’s desires.

Her maiden murmured, “I’ll go again and see if I can hear from their party.  I know there were several women in his chambers the night of the ball and then the next morning as well.  I am not sure of him, Princess.”

“Nonsense.  There’s a fire within him, I could tell from our conversation that afternoon at the he wants to see his country become a force to behold. He’ll need the support, and that makes him desperate.  Desperate men can be quite useful when necessary.” Arianne stood tall as her dress fell to the floor, and she finished the braid which would wrap around in a bun at the base of her neck.

There was a knock at her doors and Elissa scurried into the outer room. Arianne perked, at Elissa’s gasp which was unmistakable.  Arianne rose from her chair and could already hear the laughter which peppered the King of France’s speech.

She viewed him from the doorway, awaiting his words, “Well, I’m sure you were not expecting me, eh?  I am here to call upon the most lovely Princess Arianne.  Is she available for visitors?”

Before her maiden could respond, Arianne strode forward into the room, “King Thomas.  What a pleasure.” She held out her arm and he immediately was in front of her, his long legs making the distance quite short.  He briefly kissed her offered skin, lingering just a moment before pulling away.

“I was hoping you would be free to take a walk with me, Princess.  The gardens are blooming and I believe we have more of the river we could explore.” She found his bounce in his feet and the twisting of his hands endearing.  She almost hated to disappoint him.  Almost.  

She inhaled before she began, “I am sorry, Thomas. Unfortunately, I have been asked to dine with King Benedict.”  Her eyes raised to his, watching his mouth lose the ever-present smile, if only for a moment.  His head dropped down as he laughed under his breath.

“Seems I missed much while I was away,” he murmured before looking up to her again.  "I would still request another time to call on you.  After all, there is much to do here in the countryside. I would hope that you have some time in your day that is open for enjoyment of fresh air.“

She could not help herself, the smile that formed at her mouth as her eyes refused to leave his, "I suppose, Thomas.  A Princess does need her time in the sunlight every now and again, if only to help her grow.” His laugh exploded from his chest and he hunched over from her words. She would have loved to continue their banter, until she looked up to see Prince Robert standing in the doorway, his gaze flitting from his cousin and the Princess.

“Princess Arianne.  I am here to escort you to dinner.”  

With a nod to Thomas she brushed past him and linked around Aidan’s arm, “Thomas I am confident we shall see each other again.  I wish you a pleasant evening.” She continued down the hallway to the far end, where a grander, larger staircase stood.  The guard nodded to Prince Robert as the two ascended the stairs which were lined with massive candelabras that enhanced the natural light that dimmed from the immense windows.

## Thomas

He watched her as she floated from his presence, the glint in her eyes still permeating his mind.  It was until he heard the voice clear behind him that he realized he was still within the Princess’ chambers, and should take his leave.

Heading down the stairs and towards the opposite end of the Great Room where the King’s throne resided, he found Felicien in conversation with his footman. The young man almost bent in half when he saw the King, while Thomas’ advisor merely raised an eyebrow from the papers that were in his hands.

“Back so soon, Your Grace?”

A growl ripped from his lips and Felicien shooed the younger boy off before he continued to peer over what looked like a register with dozens of numbers on the sides.  Thomas could not focus on the paper, rather he began to pace back and forth.

“My cousin has already begun to woo the Princess of Estinés.  I did not give him credit for this, I figured he was still in denial that he would be requiring the help of her country. He’s much craftier than previously thought.  Maybe he is like his mother after all.”

“Do you think His Grace is genuinely interested in the young Princess?”

Thomas ran his hand over his face before shaking his head, “I have no clue. From the first meeting with Moreno, he was his usual arrogant self.  I doubt he’s ever had a romantic thought that has run through his strategical brain.”

“Then that’s it,” Felicien said, “He’s realized that she is asset to the country.”

“Maybe,” Thomas muttered, “Either way, he’s already began his path to conquest.  We will have to step up our movements faster than I anticipated.” Felicien grunted in agreement as he showed the King the register in front of him.

“I would have to agree.  We have a great deal of issues at hand, and no time to lose.”


	6. Await The King's Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arianne’s dinner with King Benedict brings a new level of understanding on both sides. However, Thomas still remains in the Princess’ mind, as she grows closer to a decision.

Arianne ascended the staircase, her heart beating so wildly in her chest, she was sure that Robert could hear it.  His strong arm guided her past the tapestries and flickering candelabras, the personal guards positioned like statues along the halls. The duo crossed the short distance in silence, Robert’s cold, blue eyes focused solely on the large doors at the far end.  He never broke the stern countenance as his appointed task neared completion.  

She could not pinpoint the flutters in her stomach, the jitters against her skin.  Was it because she would be with Benedict again, the two of them together and practically alone? In the silent march to this impending moment, her mind retreated to the look on his face, the smile which broke through the tightness in his eyes and jaw as his features relaxed.  How once their hands touched when he bestowed her the rose from his mother’s garden, his voice changed. She wondered if this was the real Benedict, the one hidden behind the crown and the weight of a nation.  

Could he be the kind of man who faltered under the presence of a woman? It seemed impossible, a King who could command people with a single glance to lack that confidence.  Or was it all a façade, a ploy to bring her to his side? How would she know the extent of the control of his mother and his sister in these events?

Her hands shook even though they were balled into fists.  She prayed Robert could not notice.  As he prepared to release her into the Benedict’s presence, she saw a flicker of compassion in his deep blue eyes—the connecting factor of all three sons.  It was gone as quickly as it emerged.

“Your Highness, a pleasant evening to you,” and he bowed at the waist before the servants opened the doors into a large receiving room.  With a meek response in kind, she entered the room.  She marveled at the bowed ceilings and intricate ironworks on each of the windows which spanned the floor to the ceiling.

The servants moved forward and Arianne haltingly followed to another set of doors, which were already open.  The light from a multitude of flickering candles illuminated the table, which was long enough to seat a dozen or more.  Arianne’s eyes grew wide at the golden plates, the shining chalices which adorned each setting.  Smells, rich ones, of spices and meats filled her nose and lungs. Even she could admit, they stirred her hunger when food remained last in her mind.  

“Your Highness.”

Arianne’s hands grasped against the folds of her skirts before turning to find those shining blue eyes again. Benedict stood at the far end of the table, where a gilded chair remained.  Even in the dimmed lights, she could see the corners of his mouth curl before he spoke.    

“Thank you for joining me this evening.  Please, sit.”  His hand waved to the chair on his right and she nodded before crossing to him.  His eyes remained on her dress, drawing lines with the stitch work that highlighted the colors that mimicked almost everything in the room.  

As if shaken from a reverie, he signaled to the footmen to pull out their chairs, both seated simultaneously.  She could hear the words of Elissa,  _“He appears traditional, unlike his cousin. Demure, compliant, subservient: all traits that are in his fancy.  Play the part, but be cautious of his behavior. Tonight should give you some knowledge to determine your next steps.”_

She kept her eyes down to her folded hands on her lap, trying desperately to ignore the crushing pressure of her corset in an attempt to continue breathing. _Well, at least I’ll have a blush on my cheeks from the lack of air._ The embarrassed smile returned to her face, noting Benedict’s unending gaze.

“I hope the rest of your day was pleasant, Princess.” He steepled his fingers in front of chin, as if contemplating his next words carefully.  He seemed appreciative of the appearance of soup for their first course, and carefully circled his spoon around before the room fell into a cautious silence.  

Arianne waited, until he spoke, “I - I would like it very much if we could forgo some of the formalities, as it is, you and your family are our honored guests.  Would that be reasonable?“

Arianne nodded, remembering a similar conversation that occurred with Thomas, only much earlier in their meetings. ”I would appreciate that.”

“Arianne,” he said, the word rumbling past his lips in an almost melodious fashion.  A smile played on the corner of his lips as he spoke, prompting a flutter in her chest. The way he said her name, it reminded her of a song.

“Benedict,” came her response, although with more hesitation and reverence. Every time she raised her eyes, she found his on her, as if she was the most interesting thing in the entire room.  He only broke away to take a small spoon of the steaming bowl in front of him.

He swallowed before his brow furrowed, “Tell me about Estinés, Arianne. Your father speaks with such love and enthusiasm, I had to wonder if he was being facetious.”  Arianne laughed, and then caught herself, folding her hands into her lap once more.

“We are very fond of our homeland, Yo- _Benedict_. It is instilled into us from an early age, I believe.  It’s hard not to fall in love with the blue seas and blue skies, the warm air and green grasses.” She stopped herself to take a spoonful of food, and to keep herself from rambling.  She focused on the bowl in front of her, rather  than Benedict who shifted forward in his seat, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Go on, please,” he murmured. She carefully placed the spoon against the side of the golden bowl and looked out the windows at the fading sun in the distance.

“Estinés was created in sunlight encapsulated within the earth. That’s the tale you’re told from the moment you’re born. You never feel oppressed by it, though, it’s a temperate warmth that fills your soul. I think it makes us appreciate life, appreciate the things that we have around us.  For when you’re exposed to such beauty on a regular basis, you could take it for granted.  However, we’re  brought up to never let that happen.  Being a citizen of Estinés means a love of the earth, the skies, the seas. Treat them with reverence, and you’ll be rewarded in return.

"It’s why many of the old crones believe we’ll forever have fruitful harvests and moderate winds.  We love our homes, our families, our way of life.  It’s not an easy life, but a happy one.  We believe that the seas keep us from harm, that we’ve been blessed to our own paradise.

“We grew up surrounded by love.  Seems silly, I dare say, life is rarely so innocent.” She quieted as she realized that things may change, that those waters and air that created a country of peace might soon be the catalyst to bring war, and death.

Noting the change in her demeanor, Benedict broke through her thoughts, “You must have been a happy child there.  You have a sister–yes?”

She nodded her head, languidly moving the spoon about the bowl, “Sofia, my elder sister.  She and I, we were inseparable.  Growing up, we never thought we lived in a grand palace.  The castle was our playroom, our rooms for fantasy and excitement.  There were days we ran though the Royal Court as my father conducted business. No one batted an eyelash.”

She chuckled to herself, “Sofia. The name alone brings visions of our adventures.” Benedict’s gaze remained, but an eyebrow raised, and Arianne focused again to her food.

"It sounds like quite a carefree place.” His voice turned faint, and they both finished their courses before the servants jumped in to clear the settings.

Her curiosity got the better of her and it prompted her to ask, "What was it like to live here? I imagine some moments of laughter.” As the words poured forth, she had a vision of the Queen Mother and she nearly kicked herself for letting her tongue become so loose.  She knew, she needed to pull back on the drink for the evening.  She almost feared his response, but noted the laugh in his breath when a memory passed through his mind.

“Oh yes, when we were younger, Allerton was full of laughter.  Probably a shocking thought, but it is true. Mind you, we never had the warmth and light of your Estinés, but we were happy. My brothers and I, we always found new and interesting ways to keep each other company.  We had many occasions of large battles, spanning the dining hall and beyond.” He laughed, and Arianne nearly fell out of her seat at the sound.

“One such time, Robert and I found the collections of armor to be cleaned and displayed in one of the halls.  Well, we took it and attached several pieces to each other and then ran through the halls with our spoons.  My mother was pregnant with Livia, Edward must have only been a tot at the time, chasing after us with his tiny little legs.  My father tried to be cross with us. In the end, he placed each of us on his shoulders and carried us into the fields.  I imagine it became quite the sight: the King with his children, without pretense, and using a spoon as a sword.  A different time.” The smile vanished and the scowl threatened to emerge. Arianne inhaled deeply before she began to speak.

“I have fond memories of times with my mother, Sofia and I at her feet while we danced by the sea. I was young when she passed, no more than aged eight or nine years.” Benedict stopped his motions and his breathing deepened.

“Sofia remembers her more than me. She can recall her words, her voice.  I remember her scent.  How her hair reminded me of the flowers from the fields of purple flowers behind the castle.  How her hands retained a tinge of yeast.  She loved to escape to the kitchens, and work alongside the bakers.  I can remember the smell of her hair, like sandalwood. I miss those scents.” She held back the prick of tears that threatened in her eyes.  

She hoped she hadn’t been too bold in revealing that information, but the tactic worked, as Benedict’s voice returned, low and tender, "Truly amazing how a scent can evoke such a response, no?”

Arianne’s eyes found his as his voice dropped to almost a whisper, “I remember the scent of my father’s cloak.  It reminded me of the outdoors, leather and horses. He loved to ride, and taught us all as we grew older. He would have been pleased to see how my siblings and I have grown in that regard.  I was lucky to have him guide me until I was almost a man.  Still too soon to lose a father.”

"Those memories remain.  It’s what we have left, how we’re able to keep them alive.” Arianne thought she saw a flicker, a moment of compassion that flashed across his face when she spoke.  Emboldened by that moment, she took the chance as it presented itself.

“You and I are of a similar composition, Benedict. We keep that warmth within us.  Kept safe for when we wish to return and wrap ourselves in a familiar place.” She averted her gaze to the incoming servants with the next course of their food.  She was also entirely aware of the fact that Benedict never took his eyes off of her, even after he was served and his wine glass refilled.  Arianne felt the blush streak across her face, until she motioned towards his plate—the only thing that took away his attentions.

* * *

Once the plates cleared and the candles dimmed, Benedict held out his hand to Arianne.  They had shared many of the finest foods that England had to offer, Arianne only being able to sample bites of each.  By the end of it all, she felt her corset ready to burst at the seams. More concerning was the wine which caused her to blush deeper every time a meaningful glance passed between them.

She accepted his proffered palm and noted that the chill had finally escaped his skin.  Maybe the wine had affected him as well?

“Leave us,” he motioned to all the servants and within seconds, they vanished.  Suddenly, the bravado that Arianne grasped in her hands disappeared, replaced by a pounding heartbeat and sweat pricking on her neck.  She was acutely aware that they were alone, in the King’s chambers.  While all she had heard of Benedict pointed towards a solitary, slightly eccentric man, Arianne was aware that could mean nothing in an instant. She attempted to keep her head high, back straight—but she felt her hands shaking. She nearly jumped away when he covered her hand with his own and the smile, the one so rarely seen, appeared on his lips.  _Does he realize my apprehension?_ she wondered.

“I can not thank you enough for this, Arianne.  It’s been so long since I’ve had such delightful company in my midst.” He trailed off, as if he wanted to say more.  Arianne merely nodded and her eyes shot to the doors.

“Oh, yes, I am sorry,” he mumbled and walked her out and into the main rooms of his living space.  When he stopped her right before the doors, her eyes trailed to the velvet shades on each of the walls, which draped down in fantastic navy blues.

It was the same navy she saw in his eyes and she felt relief in her veins.  The fear disappeared, replaced with a hunger she had not felt in quite some time.

“I am so pleased that I could spend this time with you, Benedict,” she whispered, remembering now was not the time to pitter on.  Now was the time to be quiet and demure, allow him to decide the outcome of this evening.

It was not how she anticipated when one of his hands left hers to glide along her cheek.  With a cautious step, she moved closer, his breath coming in short spurts as she watched his chest.  She decided to focus on his lips, pink from the wine but also from desire, and he moved towards her, broaching the distance.  Arianne allowed Benedict to press his lips to hers, waiting for his and her own reaction.

She could not have foretold his lips being so soft, the kiss being so tender, that she wondered if his lips had met hers. Arianne responded back on hearing his breath hitch.  His hand, that had held hers the entire time, released her palm to rest on her waist, bringing their bodies even closer together.  She could feel the cool from the metal on his chest, sense the softness of the fabric that lined his collar. With the most gentle of touches, her fingers rested on the sides of his face.  The stubble against the firmness of his skin, the line of his cheekbones all floated under her fingertips. Their lips continued to move, his feathery light kisses gentler than she’d ever experienced before.  

She pulled away from him to catch her breath, as she realized she desired nothing more than to deepen this kiss more.  A flash of a memory of stolen kisses, filled with passion in the heat of the night, raced through her mind.  It was too early for him to know her innermost thoughts, if at all.

She brought her eyes down and he stammered, “I-I’m sorry, I should not have done that.”

“No, you should,” she said looking up as the corners of her lips raised and a slight wink of her eye, “I quite liked it.”

He appeared reassured before he brushed down his tunic and held out his hand again.

“I should return you to your chambers, your father awaits you.” Arianne felt herself growing bolder, concerned that this inappropriateness before any confirmation of a relationship would be frowned upon.

She held back his arm as he turned to her, curiosity in his knotted brow, “I was hoping to return to the garden tomorrow.  I would love to get my hands in the grasses and weeds.  Perhaps, I will see you then?”

Relief washed over his features, “I would love that, Arianne.  Truly, I would.”

* * *

Arianne amazed herself with the ability to find the garden after all the winding and turning around the paths, but eventually she did find the vine covered wall on the southern end of the kitchens. She cold hear the clattering of pots and pans, the yells of the older women to the younger, encouraging them to cut faster, knead harder.  She pulled the hood of her cloak against her face, as the morning looked as if rain might threaten at any moment.  However, she would not take her chances on missing Benedict.

Her hands searched along the hard stone before she found the brass ring.  With a forceful twist, she opened the door which welcomed her into the small space with the blooming flowers.  Her first thought would be to make two bouquets, one for herself, and one for Livia.  Whatever Benedict’s sister had in planning the two of them meeting the day prior, Arianne decided her thanks were in order.  Even if it was for the forging of a friendship between the two.

She dropped the basket down, running her hands over the long grasses and leafy kinds of moss in the corners.  A flash of a memory from the ends of their castle in Estinés floated in her mind, a moment where in the shade of the humongous walls, the same moss grew.  

As she snipped and pulled away flowers in shades of red and white, she lost herself in her conversation with Elissa late the night before.

_“He kissed you!” Elissa hissed and Arianne rushed over to place her hands on her maiden’s shoulders.  “Tis bold of him! Even for a king!”_

_“Yes, I know,” Arianne countered, trying to keep her voice from raising, “But I needed to know his thoughts, I needed to know—“ she trailed off, the unspoken of how she needed to know in her heart who would be the one._

_Elissa shook her head before she leaned forward, “What will this mean now? And with Thomas? Have you let him go as a suitor?”_

_Arianne shook her head and motioned for the strings of her corset to be loosened, “It means I will continue my meetings with Benedict.  He seemed quite pleased with meeting me tomorrow. Having spoken with him, it’s different.  When he’s not around his family, the court, he’s different.  I can’t place a finger on it, but there’s a connection.” With a halting gasp as she could breathe fully once more, she sat down on a settee as Elissa pulled the pins from her hair._

_“And—“ the unspoken of the second King who was pursing her favor._

_“If he calls, I will see him,” Elissa stopped and Arianne turned upwards, “It is in my best interest to keep them both in play.  Who knows, Thomas may prompt Benedict for a move or the other way around.  By immediately making this decision, it could move our interactions into their favor.  I need to retain the upper hand.” A knock at the door took both their attentions._

_“Enter!” Elissa called as she rushed to the door.  Arianne pulled her dressing gown to cover her loosened dress and stood, as Xavier walked through the doors._

_“Good evening, Your Highness, Your father requested I check in on you and ask to your dinner with the King.”  His eyes were cold and unmoving._

_“You can let my father know that I had a splendid evening, Senhor Severo.” Her eyes never left his as he pursed his lips before huffing an affirmation.  He strode back through her doors to the other apartments.  She only felt disgust towards Xavier, just as Elissa returned to help her into her sleeping gown…_

“Good Morrow, Princess.  What a surprise to find you here.”

Arianne whirled around, basket in one hand, clasping flowers in the other towards the melodious voice of King Thomas.  Her mouth dropped open to the sight: the ruler leaning against the concrete wall, one end of his mouth raised in a barely concealed smile as his eyes twinkled despite the lack of sunlight.

“Thomas,” she breathed, trying to remember her place, “It is good to see you again. I hope you were able to take your walk last evening.”

“Oh, no, I did not. It would be far too boring to explore these places alone.  No, I would rather have someone much more  _interesting_  than me to engage my conversation.” The smile grew.

Arianne waved her hand to the flowers, “Well, as you can see, I am working in this garden.  Benedict showed it to me yesterday and I can use it for my own planting.”

“ _Benedict_ ,” he said, the word rolling off his tongue, causing his lips to perk as it was something sour, “That is quite generous of the King.  You must have had a lovely supper with him.”

Arianne nodded, striding towards him. Like a moth to a flame, she could feel the fire within Thomas, and she wanted to bring it out.  While they were enclosed in the area, her ear strained to hear if anyone else came down the path towards them.

She let her smile break across her face, her eyes narrowing on his broad chest and firm jaw, “I did, thank you.  I find he is quite a kind and understanding man, quite interested in the potential of his country.  Would you agree with that, Thomas?”

His face contorted at her description but he laughed under his breath at her last statement, “I believe my cousin and myself have our homes in our best interest.  However, you have no idea of the depths I would cross for my country.  Unlike my cousin, I did not have the supplements of my brothers and sisters, counties near and far to assist France.

“No, my family has suffered and trod through decades of declining crops and difficult winters.  We have found ourselves on the brink of a resurgence and I will stop at nothing to achieve that.” His teeth bared while a flash of white went through his eyes.  Arianne’s hair cascaded backward, exposing more of her neck as her head tilted to his words.

“I believe however, that those ideals are close to what you see for Estinés, is that correct? Your father, being able to utilize the lands and seas to his discretion, and keeping you all from harm’s way. However, in the end, it is how a country will benefit from it’s alliances that can keep away ruin.” He moved closer and closer during his speech, his eyes darkening just enough for Arianne to note the fury behind them.  _He would do anything he could for France, but to what end?_

She bent down to pick up a flower and twisted it in her fingers, a crimson poppy—similarly colored to his tunic and looked up into his eyes, “You are fiercely tied to France, Thomas, as I am to my homeland.  I love Estinés and it will always be my home, no matter what the future holds.”

“’Tis a shame you’d have to leave it.  You would be best to find yourself within a marriage where the connections lie deep. Where you could visit upon your will, and not when the King allows it.” Arianne’s eyes ran wide at the thought, just as Thomas’ eyebrow perked upwards.

His tongue ran over his lower lip as he focused solely on hers, “We should speak more of our homes, and our love for them. Please join me for a ride out to the shoreline this afternoon?”

Without thinking, Arianne nodded as the words tumbled forth, breathless, “Yes, I would Thomas.”

“Arianne?” came the second voice, and she knew she would have to hold her ground as best as possible, even thought it felt like it could slip beneath her.

Thomas whirled around, glee in his words and on his face, “Cousin! Good Morrow.” Benedict’s eyes roamed back and forth from the two as Arianne curtseyed.

“Your Grace,” she purred, catching both men’s attentions.  

 


	7. You'll Be A Queen One day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her moment with King Benedict, Arianne is faced with King Thomas and his near relentless pursuit of glory for France. While Arianne enjoys the their dueling affections, is she ignoring the dangers that lie within both men?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone still following this story, I hope that I will be able to keep this story updated more frequently!

##  **Chapter 7 - You’ll Be A Queen One Day**

The breeze that swept through the small garden did little to alleviate the heat that gathered on Arianne’s cheeks.  She pressed her hands into her bodice, trying to focus on anything: the leaves, the grass, the insects flitting around her body.  Anything but the two men that stood before her, their own gaze fixed solidly upon her.

It would be Thomas to break the silence, “Appears Arianne deemed it necessary for an early start in the gardens.  After all, one never knows when the rains will return to Allerton.  I’m surprised anything bloomed here with all this dampness.” The smile never reached his eyes, and his voice, although filled with mirth was thick with spite.

Arianne watched as Benedict crossed over to her, lending out one of his arms, “We have ample sun here, Thomas. Why, when the winds turn from the south, the fields practically sing with the birds in the meadows. Perhaps it’s been so long since you’ve spent time in the lands of your ancestors. Those memories are already forgotten from your mind.” Arianne silently looped her own arm into his, as he pressed it firmly against the metal of his armor that draped down his sides. She felt the air turn in the garden, as Benedict continued, his body seemingly growing with each word and with Arianne on his side.

“France may have more temperate weather on the whole, but the rains are vital to our crops and fields.  We welcome them with open arms.  Those lack of rains in France has not left your mind, has it Thomas?”  The proper smile left Thomas’ face and Arianne watched as his eyes changed, barely holding back the venom in his words.

“I believe it has not left either of our minds, cousin.” Thomas turned to Arianne, “Princess, enjoy your morning.  I look forward to our ride this afternoon.  I shall collect you from your rooms?” Without waiting for her response, he bowed to both of them before leaving the garden. Arianne stood without moving, listening to the sounds of Thomas’ feet crunching against the grass, his own pieces of armor lightly clinking against the other.

“He has asked you to ride with him?” It was a statement, over a question, but Arianne’s voice still cracked when she met his gaze.

“Yes, later this afternoon.  King Thomas had asked for me yesterday, but I had accepted your offer to dinner.” She peered down into her basket and the flowers she had already picked before continuing.   _Demure and compliant…_

“I had rather a lovely evening with you, Benedict.” She waited for his response, which was his hand moving to her chin and bringing her back to his eyes.

“The same with you, Princess,” he said, the last of his words lingering upon his lips.  Arianne felt as if she could breathe easier in the enclosed space with only the two of them. Benedict looked around at the basket, filled with small red flowers.

“I see you’ve begun.  Here, allow me.”  He bent down on one knee, his tunic almost brushing against the cool grass before Arianne bent down with him.  His hands, while rough and calloused, still had a finesse with removing the dead branches and finding the mature growth between. Arianne bent down and worked silently alongside Benedict, until he placed a few flowers in her basket and spoke again.

“My cousin is a guest here at Allerton, along with his company.  Our grandfathers were brothers; we share a lineage that goes back hundreds of years. Just as we opened our doors to you and your Father, that is as we would welcome anyone who is a friend to England.

“However, make no mistake, Arianne. My cousin is not to be trusted.” Arianne halted in her actions and turned to Benedict, feeling the heat in her chest.

“Are you saying my welfare is at stake if I am with him?” He merely dropped his eyesight to the ground and pulled up a weed from his feet.

“My cousin has had many difficulties in his life, many more than I’ve encountered in my days.  While I would never believe that you would be in danger, he is swift of mind as he is intelligent.”  He examined the small leaves as they rotated in his fingers.

“He has been taught well in the art of manipulating others.  I would merely advise you to remain on your guard.” He folded the leaves into his fingers before he crushed them into his palm. Arianne watched the pieces float to the floor, until she realized his eyes were on hers.

“I shall ask the staff to bring you whatever you require for this area, Arianne.  This castle is at your disposal.” From his voice, and his gaze, she knew this to be true.  Her plan the night before had worked: Benedict saw her to his advantage—but the reasons were not yet in her grasp.

Her lips curled into a smile, as she rested her palm on his arm, “Benedict, thank you. You have done so much to allow me to feel at home here.”

“I would hope that you would always feel that way.” Her breath stopped as one of his fingers traced the outline of her cheekbone. Frozen, she waited for his next move.  Apparently, being in the open, albeit in the enclosure, proved to  be too much for Benedict to demonstrate any outward affection towards Arianne.  He stood up, brushing some leaves off his knees before helping Arianne as well.

“Tonight, please do feel free to accompany me again for dinner.  I shall send the servants to bring you at the same time.” Arianne smiled and nodded, curtsying slightly as he turned and left the enclosure.

 _A request that is a demand.  Manipulation might be a family trait._  She spun around, looking for her basket and fixed her cloak once more.  There was plenty to do in the garden, however, she recognized there were more pressing matters at hand.  One being the King who would be collecting her to take their ride together.  She must prepare, for whatever he might bring her way.  While both Kings saw Arianne as their prize to win, she would be certain to show them that they would not catch her easily.

* * *

Pleased at the brightening skies, Arianne walked with her handmaidens to the stables, where a few of the boys ran around to prepare for the ride.  Arianne knew that they would followed by her ladies, as well as King Thomas’ men.  As each step brought her closer to the entrance, a combination of apprehension as well as excitement bubbled in her chest.  

As they closed in, a man even taller than Thomas walked out.  She recognized the beard and dark eyes of Thomas’ advisor, Felicien.

“Good morrow, Princess!” he beamed, looking far too amused at her appearance, “His Highness is inside.  He has been looking forward to your ride all day.” With a wave of his long arm, Arianne stepped into the structure.  It looked as if it held two dozen or more horses to be ready at a moment’s notice.

Thomas appeared at the far end of the structure, his hands gliding over the jet black hair of a stallion in front of him.  He turned and smiled at her, none of the measured coolness or guarded light in his eyes.  No, even Arianne in her too few years could tell this reaction was genuine.

He had changed from the long tunic and ornate belt from earlier and changed into his armor: maroon red and gleaming from head to toe.  It was as he appeared the night of the welcoming ball. Her fingers clenched in her hand, as she remembered the cold feel of the metal against the heat that poured off his body.  How light he made her feel in his arms, and the way his lips parted as his eyes roamed over her body.

She roused herself from those thoughts, as she strode to his side, “Thomas.  It appears the skies have brightened just for us today.” As much as Benedict’s words floated in her ears, she could not help but enjoy the relaxed nature of her banter with the French King.  

His blue eyes turned to the open stable door and the breaks in between the clouds, “I dare say you’re right, Princess.  Although, I’d wager more on the skies opening just for you, ensuring that you are not too cold during your time with me.” He outstretched one of his hands and after a moment’s pause, Arianne took it.  His warmth enveloped her skin and Arianne already knew she’d miss his touch when he’d release her.  He brought her to a honey colored mare at the end.

“She’s beautiful,” Arianne whispered, as her hands floated over the soft hair of her mane.

“She’s one of ours, a favorite of the ladies of France’s court.  She is quite tame and gentle.  However, I can say that when put to test, she will surprise you with her strength and ability.”

“Oh?” Arianne asked as she grew closer to Thomas, his hand gliding up the fabric of her arm before gliding to her waist. “It sounds like she’s quite a treasure.”

“She is, make no doubt of that, Arianne.  I almost hated having her on this excursion with us, but she handled the travel beautifully.” They remained in silence as the mare nuzzled to Arianne’s hands and against Thomas’ pats on her neck.

Thomas’ eyebrow raised as the stableboy returned, “Both horses are prepared as you asked, Your Highness.”

“Splendid, take my horse and the mare as we’ll begin our ride through the pastures onto the fields towards the ocean.”

“We’re not taking the rest of our court?” Arianne felt the hairs stand on her neck.

“No, not for this, Princess,” he added with a wink, “I believe this short of a ride is meant to be enjoyed without the fear of losing one or two members of our country.  After all, there simply aren’t enough horses here are there?”  Arianne realized he was correct, and wondered how much of that had been planned.  She had little time to protest, as Thomas led her from the back of the stable, towards the fields that surrounded Allerton Castle.

She had spent her morning, before escaping to the gardens, to look at them from her windows.  The fields seemingly stretched for miles and miles beyond what her eyes could see.  Grains and wheat and all manner of vegetation looked ripe for harvest.  It appeared from where she stood, that Allerton, and these areas of England, were full beyond their need.  

She turned as Thomas handed her the reigns of the mare, “May I?” he asked, his hand proffered to her as to help her onto her saddle.  With a smile and a nod, she placed her foot into the stirrup and lifted herself upward. The mare quietly huffed under her breath, adjusting slightly before she stilled, and Arianne rubbed the side of her neck.

“Good girl, thank you,” she smiled.  Thomas watched before bounding up onto his own horse, dark as the night and almost double the size of Arianne’s.

“I believe we are set.  Shall we?”

“Lead the way, Thomas,” she grinned and the two set off, a slow gallop to start.  The path led around the fields and up into a small meadow where it was apparent the horses usually were for training.  In the farther distance, she could see the meadow she had been in the day prior, during her Falconry lesson with Benedict’s court.  The forest led further on, framing the fields.  These crops had been tended with care for years, if not a century.

“An embarrassment of riches, wouldn’t you agree?”

Arianne could only shrug, “This land is good for toiling, you can tell by the dark color of the soil.” Spending most of her life with her hands in rich earth, she could tell when it was ready for planting and when it would never take anything past seedling.  Thomas only raised his eyes to her as she continued.

“I can believe Estinés is a land of great beauty.  I would love to see the place that produces such lovely crops, and even more lovely Princesses.” Arianne could only dip her head down, her cheeks turning redder than his armor.  It had been a long time since she’d had someone shower such outward affections on her, and especially when she could not return them.

He slowed his horse down to match her mare’s stride, “My words are not facetious, Arianne. Believe every word.  One day, it would be an honor and a privilege to make a trip of goodwill to Estinés and meet your family and your people. It truly sounds as if it is beyond the imagination that one could even dream.  The sun, the ocean waves, the rolling hills of endless crops.  The evenings draped in warm air.”  His voice was low, but melodious, it was if he was entrancing her to his words.  He trailed off, his gaze remaining on her the entire time.  Her mind drifted back to her home, but this time with Thomas.

She could picture her old rooms, now draped with more crimson.  The sounds of the waves crashing against the shoreline, the fragrant and balmy winds flowing through the open windows.  Arianne imagined all of this while she lay across the silken sheets, Thomas above her, his mouth mere inches from hers.  She could taste the want, the need for his body to press it’s delightful weight against hers with nothing to hinder their exploration between them.  What did the skin of his arms, or his back feel like under her fingertips ? Her lips ran dry thinking of the pressure of his lips on hers, his hands roaming her bare skin.

“Home produces such lovely visions, does it not?”

She swallowed harshly, realizing her place and how quickly her mind drifted off into places truly inappropriate for her situation.  Arianne looked over, and within seconds, Thomas’ eyes lit up like the sun.  She wondered if he knew how heated her thoughts had become.

Attempting to clear her mind and maintain her breath, she tried to focus things on Thomas, “Please, I have heard so much of England, I’ve discussed Estinés more times than I’d care to count.  I would love to hear of France, please tell me about your home.”  She looked towards him, and with a nod to her, he inhaled until his chest nearly grew double in size.

“France is a county of several regions, of which we have the potential to grow crops like this.  Plants that are larger, fuller, more vibrant than the brightest colors your home has ever dreamed!” He grew animated as he spoke, his hands and arms up and down, while his horse merely continued onward.

“When I was just a boy at my father’s leg, he would take me with him around to visit the areas, sample what was produced. I remember being handed fruit from the vines, so delicious that the juices ran down my fingers and chin. Crops so dense and full, it would take a hundred men to clear half of it.  We were full to our wildest imaginations with the possibilities of what we could achieve.  The lands were rich, our trade routes expansive.  We were our own empire, a force throughout the world.”

He stopped in his words.  Arianne might have been young, but not naive enough to miss the undercurrent in Thomas’ speech.  They rode along in silence until the road turned downward and through a small thicket before a forest in front of them.

“What happened?”

“My father grew ill.  The people around him did not take France’s best interests at heart, they sold off parts of the lands, over tilled others. Mismanagement of our treasury, the crops grew off.  Then we were hit with a drought that lasted for years.  When that happens, the grounds take much longer to return to a state for growth.  I grew up outside the capital with my Mother, the Queen, and Grand-Mere.  Difficult to say the least.”

Arianne broke the silence again, “You have said before that France was on a precipice. That there were amazing things to come to you and your kingdom, do you still believe that?” As they rode slowly through the forest, the light dampened, but Thomas’ eyes grew dark as well.

He ran a hand through the auburn curls atop his head, “Of course I do.  France will never die.  I’ll fight to my last breath to ensure that never happens. Whatever is required will be.”  His eyes flit to her before he returned his gaze through the forest walls.

“Princess, you look cold.  I hope when we reach the seas the winds are not too bold for you.”

She shook her head, “I can handle it.”

“How about the snow? I’m afraid you’ve never been accustomed to such harsh winters in the Southern Isles. The long days of darkness before the winds whip around this castle?  I remember my days as a child here, visiting with my father.  Dreadful seasons, so terribly cold.”

Arianne’s hands tightened around the reigns, wondering how horrible those days and nights could become. He was right, she never experienced anything other than balmy weather in Estinés, it could not be as bad as Thomas described.   _Could it?_

She stammered over her words, “I-I am sure that there are times where it is as hot as Estinés and as cold as the mountains in the distance.”

“But you love the sun,” he quipped, the smile still on his face.  Arianne grew weary of this conversation, instead deciding to turn the conversation.

“You talk of France as if it’s to burst forth, become that empire you said it was once before.  What’s stopping you?”

“Supplies.” His voice lost its mirth, “France has finally rejuvenated it’s crops, made it’s first wealth from the land in as many years as I can remember.  Without the right tools, the right people to know how to till the land so it continues this path, it will be for naught.”

“Which is why you’re looking to my father.” His eyebrow raised slightly as he nodded.

“Yes, Princess, which is why I need those supplies, and men who have that knowledge to help us.  Things that Estinés has more of than they could count and far more than needed is in your employ.”

It was her turn to nod at his words, as the horses cleared the path from the forest, towards a long descending cliff.  The ocean roared next to them, pulling in and out of the surf.  However, the three large ships that remained docked at the edge of the cliffs were what caught Arianne’s attentions.

Thomas slowed his horse to a stop, folding his arms over his chest, “Beautiful aren’t they? We may lack in trade, but we can still make the fastest ships known to man.” Arianne looked at Thomas, her eyes growing wide.

“They’re yours? They are so close.”

“Yes, we felt it necessary to disembark here, near to the castle.  I grow weary of long rides in carriages.  I need to feel the wind at my face, the salt air in my lungs.  It’s unnecessary to be so encumbered in a minuscule capsule.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Arianne?”

She found herself responding in the positive before she had the time to think. It was so easy to fall into such comfort with him.  She did not jump when his hand clasped around hers.

“Care to sail away? I could show you France and all its glory.  The open markets, the rolling hills, the endless sun that stretches for miles.” The wind whipped through her hair and a few tendrils crossed her vision.  Without warning, he reached with his free hand and brushed them from her face, glancing his fingers from her cheek.

She found herself lost in looking at him, as the sun played on the golden hue of his auburn locks.  When another gust of wind flowed around them, she remembered her place.

“I can’t.  My father, our company….”

He leaned into her, shielding her from the bright sunlight, “Oh, you do not need your father to make your decisions for you, Princess.  In fact, I feel assured in the fact that you made many choices as a young girl in that land of sun you called home. Choices that brought you great happiness.” His mouth stopped mere millimeters from hers.

“In fact, I’d wager my country on that fact.” Her eyes rested on the flush pink of his lips, the barest hint of teeth viewable from the barest of distance between them. The longing to press her lips against his was unbearable.  She felt her body moving towards him– right until her mare became frustrated with waiting, and paced two steps forward.

The break became enough for her to remember her place.  She was a Princess of the Royal Court and a guest in this country.  While Thomas certainly made her days interesting, her mind still wandered to the King whose castle she just left.  A pang of guilt ran through her chest.   _Was Benedict right after all?_

Without a word, Thomas turned his horse  and began the trek into the forest once more.  They walked along in silence, only the fading sounds of the ocean and the horses breathing to accompany them.

* * *

“Your Highness? Is all well?”

Arianne lifted her head to Elissa, who looked on with such curiosity and concern.  The two were alone in her chambers.

“Yes, I’m fine.  I believe I am just tired.  I do not think I’ve had a moment to spare these days.” She stood and brushed out her gown, readying for another evening with the King of England.

Her past days had been spent in similar situations: either spent in the fields or the gardens with Benedict, or at times on strolls with Thomas along the paths and through the forest.  Each night had been the same, Benedict calling her to dine with him.  Although, Thomas appeared to grow weary of the fact that her evenings were always occupied.  He had asked for her presence on several occasions, and each time she was to decline.

She wondered if Benedict planned it, every night ready for her arrival.  It became almost humorous, Thomas coming to call for her, and then being turned away in frustration.  She even admitted to herself that the game which presented itself between them had its amusements.  The mere mention of the other’s name would send each King into a poorly concealed rage.

Although, Thomas had not pursued her after that moment between them at the coast.  She wondered why he would not take the risk—was it being in his cousin’s homeland?  With his bravado, she was sure that he was not without company, even if it was not Arianne’s—a fact that rarely left her mind.  

However, the King of England welcomed Arianne— _and only Arianne_ —every night to his chambers.  Each night was filled with conversation and laughter.  And each dinner ended with his lips upon hers, his hands on her bodice and her own breath being taken away.  It was the moment she looked forward to every night, and emblazoned on her lips upon waking the next day.

The knock at the door signaled her escort to the King’s rooms.  However, Arianne let loose a gasp of surprise to find Senhor Servero standing in the doorway.

“Your Highness.  I am here to bring you to dinner.  If you will.” He turned to his side and jutted out his elbow, awaiting her.  The Princess looked at her maid, confusion and surprise flowing over her features.  

“Of course, thank you,” she murmured.  Linking her arm to his, they began the familiar walk up the stairs and down the long hallway.  Once her door closed, however, Severo halted in his steps.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.  Arianne whirled to him, her eyes wide.

“How dare you speak to me as if we are familiar!  We are not that way, not anymore.  You are to know your place.”

“I know my place, _Princess,_ ” he growled, as his hand tightened against her elbow.  “You are playing a dangerous game with two dangerous men.”

“You have no clue of what you speak!” Arianne snapped back, leaning towards her former lover, “I am balancing my decision between these men and where my future will lie.  You knew this to my fate before we even stepped foot on this land.”

His eyes were dark but flashed with anger, “You will not win here, Princess.  I am warning you.  Make the decision and quick. You’ll regret your actions otherwise.”

“I regret ever letting you into my chambers and believing for a moment that you were a decent and honest man! Now, bring me to the King and not one more word, lest I slip to my father or one of my suitors that you have acted against the Throne of Estinés and made advances towards me.”

His teeth ground tight as the words pressed through, “You still believe yourself with these childish thoughts.  Such a pity, you are so much smarter than this.” With a rough grab he walked her down the hall and slammed his hand onto the door.  As it swung open, he released her and quickly bowed before storming away.  Arianne gasped for breath, before her name echoed through the rooms.

“Arianne? Is that you?”


	8. I Will Keep You Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arianne's world begins to close in on her as both Kings begin to make their intentions clear, while others continue their inner workings to orchestrate the decision. As she feels herself losing her position, she makes a decision that will change the course of her future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be two POV's, and a bit of a cliffhanger at the end. The first act is almost finished, so I hope you enjoy this chapter!

_Benedict_

“It’s imperative that we move forward with the consolidation of the forces up in the North.  When we have that in place, we’ll have an excess of men who can then move South for the harvests.  Begin drafting a proclamation, I want something by tomorrow at the latest.”

Ser Crofton kept up his pace with Benedict, nodding along to his words as he scribbled onto a piece of parchment.  Benedict worked his way up the stairs to the landing before the doors to the Royal Dining room opened.  Ser Crofton jumped in his heels, stopping right before he crashed into his King.  Benedict halted in his steps at the sight of the Queen Mother, who merely stood at the window.

Without turning around, she spoke, “Ser Crofton, give me a moment with my son.  Alone.” Benedict opened his mouth to stop him, but Ser Crofton knew better than to go against the Queen’s wishes.  With a deep bow to his King, he retreated from the room in an instant

Indignation fueled the sigh that passed Benedict’s lips before he crossed the room, “Good Morrow, Mother.  How are you this fine morning?” His eyes trailed to the lands outside of the window: the blue skies and fluffy clouds that heralded another temperate day.  Refusing to wait for whatever her response, he sat in his chair and nodded to the steward who filled his glass while another rushed forward holding a plate filled with food.

He tucked into the meal as his mother spoke, “Enjoying yourself?”

“At the moment, yes, I am starving. The cook has outdone himself this morning with the sausages,” he murmured, before taking a drink of water.

His eyebrow raised as she snapped, “I’m not sure whether I should be glad that you find humor in this situation or wonder if you’ve just been tired from all your late nights in this castle.” As she lowered herself into the chair on his right, he dropped his silverware with a loud clink against his plate.

“I’m in no mood for your games today.  Be precise and tell me—“

“Games!” she snapped, cutting him off, “I believe you’re the one enjoying the game you’re involved in, or at least stupid enough to not realize you are thick in the middle of it.” The room fell silent from her outburst as his breath flew from his nostrils.

She leaned forward and her blue eyes fixed upon his, “What are your intentions with this girl? This has gone on far enough.”

He growled before taking another drink while she continued, “Fine, give her all the flowers and dirt and evenings in your rooms you want. Keep playing the cuckold as she flits around this castle as if it belongs to her.  Meanwhile, she accepts the advances brought to her by your cousin.” She jumped back as Benedict’s hand hit the table and his goblet spilled its contents in an arc.  

“Moreno said—“ he started but she cut him off once more, raising his anger to new and unusual heights.

Her hand waved through the air, slicing the space between them, “He’s orchestrating this entire farce! He says what he wants to play this field, to see which of you will bring the more attractive of desires so he can sway his daughter to make the decision he wants.  Saying that his daughter, his _younger_ daughter, would have the decision in her marriage?  It’s a ploy, my son, plain and simple and I will not stand by and allow you to have this mockery continue under your own nose!”  

He stopped to think of what in her words could prove as truth, when placed in what could have been a pack of lies, as she snapped, “When have you ever heard such a farce? That the girl would pick her suitor? I will tell you that your cousin has spent many a night—while you dined with said girl—with her father, promising him the world.”

“France has nothing to offer,” Benedict managed, his voice wavering.

She shook her head, as the silver hairs that escaped her crown grazed against her face, “Thomas believes that they’ve turned a corner in France, that there’s a crop which will finally bring them relief, the first in almost a decade.  He’s promising everything from men, to potential trade, to gold.  What have you done in that time?”

“We do not need any of that, England is self-sustaining. We have everything we need.” Her mouth pursed before she mumbled her frustration and he stood from the chair with a hard scrape of the wood on the floor.

“You continue this belief with our military; we do not need more soldiers!”

“Why would you allow this opportunity to fall through your fingers? You love her, don’t you?” Her face turned cold, and the room’s temperature dropped ten degrees. His body felt a sense of unease that the knowledge was clear of his feelings for Arianne.

He ignored her last question, “I am not some brute, forcing her to make a decision.  I’ll win in the end.”

She tut at him, a response given since he was a young boy and one which managed to make him feel like one again, “You do not give this girl time. No one will force her hand, but manipulation is the name of this game.  Your cousin can entrance anyone like the best snake charmer in the world.  If you allow this competition to continue, you’ll find yourself on the losing side of this, I assure you, my son. That’s taking into account all these romantic nights you’ve spent with her, in whatever capacity, but it is still not enough.”

He went quiet as her next words poured forth from her lips, “She spends her days with him.  Riding horses, viewing the sea line where his ships are kept.  Do you think they’re talking about flowers and the change of the winds? He’s wooing her, Benedict.  The fact that she has not voiced who she wishes to marry is because the two of you are equal in her mind.

“While I believe in you, Benedict, this is not a game you can play and win. You need to make a stand, prove that you are the better of the two choices that she believes is in her control.  Make the marriage of Estinés and England to be a benefit for all, not just her.” She sat back in her seat, never taking her eyes off of him.  Meanwhile, Benedict could hardly breathe, his chest feeling constricted against his tunic and metal straps which wrapped around him.  

“Make her believe she’s walking into this marriage by her own accord.”

He collapsed back into his chair, his head beginning to ache.  Hating his voice as it cracked, he managed to admit, “I—I don't know how.”

“You make the choice for her.” She raised her hands, the long digits marred by wrinkled skin, but enhanced with a multitude of jewels passed down from generations.  She slowly removed a massive sapphire surrounded by diamonds from her left hand.  The Queen placed her last gift from her deceased husband in front of Benedict with a deep sigh.  

* * *

 

_Arianne_

“Come on, now. Keep up! It’s not too much farther!” Arianne laughed as Thomas attempted to climb the small, but steep hill overlooking the fields along the Northern end of Allerton Castle. He shook his head in amusement towards the Princess, gasping for breath as they reached the peak.  Arianne could hear the hooves of the horses they left at the basin pawing the ground.  It was a clear and gorgeous day, full of possibility.

Thomas finally reached her side, “You know, we could have continued by the sea, that would have taken us towards the adjoining towns.  We could have also kept on horseback.” Arianne held her hair out of her face before turning to the Auburn haired King.

“But this is much more fun!” she squealed as she folded her hands in front of her.  While the past few days had been gloomy and overcast, this was the first day where the clouds parted and Arianne could see for miles in each direction.  The fields were lush and green, and she could smell the crisp scent of grass all around her.

With a sigh she turned around, “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s fortuitous,” Thomas mused, slamming his foot in to the ground, “The proximity to the sea makes these lands rich in soil and excellent for crops.  I wonder if the rest of the country is like this.” Arianne turned to see a flash run across Thomas’ face as he looked out as well.

She shrugged, and her shawl slid from her shoulder. Thomas caught it to place back in position.  His hand lingered on her bare skin for a fraction of a second longer before he pulled it behind his back.  

The hills and surrounding meadows appeared thick with birds chirping and singing delightful little songs.  Bees flit from the flowers near them, as the vibrant colors danced in the breeze. With the sun high above, Arianne believed this to be one of the most enjoyable days she’d spent at Allerton.  For a moment, the thought of spending her life in this Castle and it’s surrounding lands seemed like a true possibility.

Thomas’ words cut through her thoughts, “Arianne do you think kindly of me?”

She remained silent as she turned to him, expecting his usual smile and laughing eyes.  Instead, he looked concerned, cold even.

“Of course, Thomas. I would not spend the days I have with you if I did not think you to be a kind person.” That garnered a laugh from him, but she did not care to inquire to the manner of his jest.

He ran his tongue against his lips while his head tilted to his shoulder, “I am many things, Arianne.  I am glad you think of me in that way, but I believe that is not what I asked. You and I, and everyone here are for a larger purpose.”

Her head shook in the negative causing his eyes to grow darker, “No, Arianne, you know of what I am speaking.  Please, as I’ve learned over these last few days, you are not only a beautiful woman but one who is intelligent and articulate.  You know more of the world than you care to let on, and you understand people far better than many I know whose job it is to do just that.  Therefore, let me ask you again: Do you think kindly of me?”

Her clothes felt as if they were tightening like a vice around her body, crushing her insides, “I - I,” she stumbled over her words as moved closer to her.

“I’ll change the question, do you believe King Benedict loves you?” Her eyes grew wider.

“I, I don’t know Thomas! Why are you asking me such things!”

“Yes you do, you believe he loves you—why else would he do the things he does? Why would you spend your evenings with him, in his chambers? Why do you leave with flushed cheeks afterwards? ’Tis not children’s games, Arianne.”  He kept striding forward, as she grasped her skirts in retreat.

Words continued to fail her as he continued, “A marriage to him will not suit you Arianne.  I have warned you of this already. You know he is a formal, stern King. Why do you think he changed so in these weeks you’ve been here? Why go from a man described before as heartless, to a man who suddenly has such warmth?

“He wants your hand, Arianne.  He wants the resources of Estinés for himself.  Your father—“

“My father has nothing to do with this!” She snapped, as her breaths continued to catch in her throat.  Her hand rested there, feebly protecting her from Thomas’ verbal assault.

“There is the fire I knew brewed beneath the surface,” he murmured.

His blue eyes regarded her with pity, “No, my dear, I’m afraid you are wrong.  Your father has much to do with this, maybe more than you believe. Your belief in that this is your choice is woefully incorrect.

“Your father has met with myself and Benedict. There have been discussions of what each of our countries can bring to Estinés and to your father and his—your—people.  He awaits the offer that brings the sweetest riches, and by bringing you, he’s shown what beauty lies at the center of this arrangement.  

“I have been honest with you from the start.  While I believe France’s dormant power is ready to explode, I need a spark, kindling, to make it happen.  This is where your country comes in, Arianne.” She remained quiet as she turned from him, his voice growing stronger as he spoke.

“Do you think your mother and father made their choices to wed? Mine? Benedict’s? Need I remind you of your sister?”

Arianne whirled on him, “I confided in you, how dare you speak of her!”

“It bears repeating, Arianne! Why would your father give you this information, tell you that you have a choice? Think!” He bellowed next to her and she shook her head, trying to focus on her thoughts, to wade through the possible outcomes.  Her head hurt from the possibilities.

“He gave you this information to have us to court you, knowing that you were far too headstrong to walk into this arrangement of marriage.  However, if you believed in the love of another man to you—

“Is that what all of this has been then?” she snapped, finally turning around as tears streaked from her eyes, “You’ve been plotting against me? Making me believe that you cared for me when all the while you’ve been scheming behind my back?” Her screams echoed around them, unheard as they were miles from the castle.

Thomas shook his head, “My dear, I have not been the one to deceive you.”  They went silent as she continued to watch her world crashing around her. _Could Benedict have been lying this entire time? He warned me against Thomas, could the opposite have been the same?_

“I’ve been honest with you from the start.  France needs your kingdom.” He crossed the small distance between them and in one movement, wrapped an arm around her back and one rested against her face.  His lips pressed to hers and she was lost in the moment, lost in the anger and sadness and fury of his words, only to fall into the emotions of this kiss.  She longed for it, and now she only felt confusion.

She pushed him away, pressing on the armor of his chest, “Get away from me!” she shrieked, while wiping her tears, “You-you wanted to cause me this grief! To upset me against Benedict, my father!”

“No,” he said pulling her back to him and holding her there. His force was stronger than she expected and while she struggled to break free, his face remained calm.

“You needed to know that I have not been duplicitous.  I think you are fascinating, yes. I believe a marriage between us would be both fire and ice and we would rule—together—for many years. I know that there is a connection between us and I truly see you for that. I would not try to dampen that fire within you.

She finally broke free from his grasp with a violent yank, “I don’t believe you. I-I wont.”

“I’m sorry Arianne.  I only believed that you should know the truth.” Arianne turned and let her feet carry her as fast as she could to her horse, the tears nearly blinding her in tandem with the bright sunlight.  She worried he’d follow her, chase her down again with his awful words.  However as she pulled herself up onto her mare, he was nowhere in sight.  His stallion remained behind as she kicked her horse into a trot, directing her back towards the castle.

* * *

 

As her mare strode through the gates, the pages ran to help her off.  Her skirts flew around her as she made for the main entrance, ready to explode.

The ride back filled her head with thoughts—who was telling the truth? Her father, in his statement that she would choose her marriage? Benedict, in the way he spoke kindly and sweetly towards her? Thomas, in his statements of his honesty, that he would help her and her kingdom—if she did the same?

She realized she was crying once more as she climbed the steps up to the rooms, almost crashing into someone.

“Arianne!” Livia gasped as her maids all came to a halt behind her. Arianne tried to move away, her head shaking back and forth as if nothing was wrong.  The elder woman  would not allow it and she blocked Arianne from continuing up the stairs.

“What has happened? Who has done this to you?” Livia commanded, her face turning stern.

“I— I need to …” she couldn’t form the sentences properly, unsure who she should speak to, desperate for someone to trust. Elissa came to mind and she became desperate to find her. But what could a servant do for her now?

Livia turned to her maids and snapped, “Leave us!” and the girls scurried away and down the stairs.  She put an arm around Arianne and rubbed her shoulder, shushing her as they ascended to the higher floors.

“Come, let’s go and rest for a moment.  Something has upset you greatly, and this in turn upsets me.” Before she could protest, she was guided down another long hallway ( _how many were there in this Castle?_  she mused) before walking through two large doors into a light and sunny set of rooms with a long balcony.  There were several comfortable seats scattered throughout the room which appeared to stretch on and on.  The set was almost the same size as Benedict’s rooms. She realized Livia was speaking with one of her servants who ran from the room as she turned back to Arianne.

Arianne could barely manage the words, “Where are we?”

“My rooms,” she said with a smile before helped Arianne to a chair and several servants came rushing forth.

“Tea, and some food, immediately. The Princess is not well.” They scampered away as Livia seated herself next to Arianne, holding her hand.

“What has happened, Arianne? You know you can tell me.”

Arianne still felt queasy and her head ached from crying and the combative thoughts that raced around it. With a sigh she held her hand against her forehead. Exhaustion took over from determining every person’s motives.

“I, I am just tired,” she lied.

Livia shook her head, her deep auburn hair cascading behind her back, “No, my dear.  A Princess never shows her emotions, unless she has clear reason. You were coming from your ride and…” she trailed off, putting the pieces together herself as the tea arrived.  Waiting for the room to quiet once more, Livia trailed her eyes to Arianne.

“You rode out with Thomas? What did he say? Did he hurt you?” Arianne saw Livia’s hands tighten around the armrests and Arianne gasped under her breath.

Arianne felt one last tear streak down her face and she wiped it away, “He did not hurt me, Livia. We spoke and I became overly emotional.  Stupid of me, I’m a silly girl, I should have known better.” Arianne quieted and kept her eyes away from Livia, desperate to keep her composure.  However, she jumped as Livia placed her hand on Arianne’s forearm to offer her tea.  

Arianne’s hands shook as she brought the cup to her lips as Livia spoke, “I am sorry this happened. No one should upset a member of the Royal Family, whether he is a page or a King.

“My dear, I was in a position like yours.  Unfortunately, as women we’re not much else other than pieces on a board that are moved to create a better position for the men behind us.  I hate to say that, but it’s the truth.  However, what those men do not know is that women have more knowledge and wisdom under our fingers than they could ever understand.”

Arianne shook her head, the truth tumbling out, “I have nothing, Livia.”

“You have power, Arianne.  You just need to know how to use it. It’s hard to say when it will happen, but I believe you can do so much more than you believe. Remember when that when things become dark. It is what we all have done: myself, my mother, and yours I’m sure as well. ”

Arianne brought her cup to her lips, still shaking, “Thank you, Livia. I, just—I don’t know where to turn.” Livia nodded but before she could speak, there was a rustling behind her doors.  As a servant ran to open them, Ser Crofton strode through, and King Benedict behind him.

“What’s happened?” Benedict growled, looking at his sister. Unaffected by him, she rose from her seat with a lazy wave of her hand.

“All is well, my brother, there was no reason to rush into my rooms as if they were ablaze.” Arianne could not look over at him, or anyone for that matter, still hearing Thomas’ words dancing through her mind.

_He wants the resources for himself.  He does not love you.  It was all a trick, a ploy, because deep down he knows you are expendable._

“Princess?” Benedict asked, his voice stern but quieter than before.  Arianne stood, realizing her place and curtseyed to him.

“Your Grace, it is as Princess Livia stated.  All is well, there was no reason for my concern.  I thank you.” Her eyes remained down to the ground, a silence permeating the tense air.  It quieted so they could hear the sounds of the servants tending the grounds surrounding the castle.  

Benedict shuffled in his feet, the sounds of his armor clinking against each other, “For whatever the reason, I am grateful you were able to help her, Livia. I believe it to be best if our nurses looked at the Princess.  Come, we’ll go to my quarters.” Before Arianne could protest, Ser Crofton moved to her side and placed out his arm.  Arianne sighed once again, her eyes trailing to Livia.

Livia could only give Arianne a nod and a smile in encouragement as she was led up another flight of stairs to Benedict’s quarters.  While she was familiar with the outer rooms, she never ventured past his common rooms.  This time, she found herself in his bedroom and study.  

“Thank you, you may go,” Benedict intoned as all the servants and Ser Crofton left his side.  The King’s personal aide took one last look at Arianne and to his King before closing the doors behind them.  Arianne gasped as Benedict  sped towards her, worry and concern spread across his face.

“Arianne,” he murmured as his hand reached out to her cheek.  She moved away, just out of his reach, turning towards the large blue tapestries that hung over the walls.  Each with the same dark blues, the same gold throughout: regal and powerful.

“Your Grace, I am fine.  There is no need to call for a nurse or maid for me. I am merely tired, as I said—“

“You were with him, were you not?” Benedict said, his voice wavering, an attempt to keep calm, she realized.

Exhaustion spread over her body, now as the skies dimmed and the darkness spreading across the skies.  She longed for a bed, to rest, to cry—in peace. Her patience broke, and as she was wont to do, she let her thoughts loose.

“Yes, I was, I went riding with your cousin, King Thomas. I learned a great many things with him.  He explained to me how you and he conversed with my father to decide on who shall gain the Estinés support, meaning, which of you will gain me!” She paced around him, grabbing her skirts and continuing her tirade.

“None of this means anything, none! Both of you are disgusting—duplicitous liars! I wish I never came here!”

“Enough!” he screamed and she jumped from her place, grasping onto a chair as he rushed forth.

“I told you to never believe him! He is a manipulative enchanter who will stop at nothing! He wishes to control you for control of France. Never once—once!—have I said that I wanted you for more than as my Queen! Do you believe all I have done, all that we have discussed, the time spent together…” He trailed off, as her eyes went wide, heart beating in her chest.

“You believe it all to be a lie?”

She shook her head, “You-you changed so quickly, you met with my father you--”

“How much of what he said do you know for certain, Arianne?” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“I know neither it to be true or false.  You claim Thomas as a mastermind, you could be just the same.  Instead of playing the friend, the balm, you play the romantic—the poet.  Yet, you’ve spent all these nights with me never moving forward, never proving your feelings for me.”  Even she was shocked by her words—in essence, confessing to a potential suitor that she expected to be bed by him, and meaning that any facade as a maiden would be long forgotten.  Apparently, the words shocked the King in front of her as well.  He recoiled, his hands resting at his sides before he looked to her.

 _Well, best this be known,_ she thought as she folded her hands in front of her stomach, waiting to be thrown from his chambers, and most likely from the Castle.  Instead, his brow furrowed as he refused to meet her gaze.

“You wished for that? I assumed, well—not knowing—“ she watched how uncomfortable he became and she pushed forward, towards the base of her thoughts and feelings.

“Do you desire me?” He barely made a coherent response, falling over himself in disjointed words.

“You? You’ve never?” she left the rest unsaid, and he shook his head furiously.

“Yes, yes, I’ve had women in my bed, you asked me something else.”

“Then, you think me plain?” This conversation made Arianne feel ill.

“No!” he yelled and snapped to attention. He walked over to her and reached for her cheek once more.  This time, however, she did not pull back, but remained as he looked into her eyes.  She dreamed of this, thought of that dark shade of blue often, believing he cared for her.  Her world felt upended, but with his hand pressed on her cheek, it was the only thing grounding her.  Without it, she wanted to fall through the floor and straight into the Earth.

“I find you fascinating, intelligent and yes, entirely, breathtakingly beautiful.  I would want nothing more than us to be together. I do not see a kingdom when I look at you Arianne, I see the woman I’d want with me to spend my days.”

Frankly it could be all a lie, it could be that she would be brought to misery here, or in France or in somewhere else that her father decided.  Tonight, however, she would make her own choice. She would use the power she knew she held, as Livia proclaimed to her.

“Prove it to me, Benedict,” she whispered as her mouth moved closer to his and her palms moved up his tunic to his shoulders. Within a heartbeat, he closed the distance and groaned into their kiss, the passion that simmered for so many nights exploding to the surface.


	9. Chaos is a Ladder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wheels are set into motion as Arianne makes her choice.  Little does she know of it’s consequences...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's a quick update! This is the penultimate chapter before the end of the first Act. Enjoy :)

 

_Thomas_

When the doors opened to his rooms, Thomas closed his eyes after nodding to his squire.  Released from his vestments, he leaned against the doorway and smiled, letting out a tiny chuckle.  Soon he was laughing, holding his tunic against his chest, as his eyes flowed with tears in utter amusement.

“I assume all went to plan?” Felicien asked with pride in his eyes at his King.

Thomas took a breath, “Better than I could have imagined,” he grinned, rounding the table in front of them before lifting a goblet of wine.  “It could not have played out more in my favor than if I put strings on her and made her dance.”

Felicien could only smirk and tilt his head, “What do you think will happen next?”

Thomas merely shrugged before dropping into his seat and raising his boots to the edge of the table.  Dirt and grasses dripped onto the floors, but without a care in the world, Thomas reclined and took another pull of the dark red liquid in his goblet.

“Either way, the stage is set for us.  If she goes to him and he acts to his true nature, then she’ll be in my chambers before the moon is high in the sky.  It will confirm what I have told her and we’ll be setting our boats for France by the third sunrise.”

Felicien frowned, “And if he doesn’t? What if his feelings for her are true?”  Thomas shrugged as his advisor rounded the table to sit at Thomas’ right.

“Benedict could ask for her hand in that instant.”

“He might,” Thomas said, swirling his goblet around, “If that happens, and she accepts, there will be doubt in her mind. She’ll never believe his intentions are entirely innocent.” He winked and Felicien laughed along.

“All the pieces are in place,” Thomas sighed, running a hand through his curls, “Now, we wait and see who moves first.  Then we’ll know how and when to charge forward with our ultimate plans.”

Felicien tapped his own glass, the condensation dripping onto the table, “We have no time to waste.  The faster we bring these supplies back home, the faster we can begin the first harvest and prepare for the following years.  Add in the other _enhancements…”_

Thomas leaned forward and poured another glass of wine for his longest and most trusted confidant, “France will return to be a force in the world once again.  With you as Head of the Armies, we’ll reinvigorate my country.

"And then, we shall conquer _everything_.” The two men clinked their wine together, pure excitement in their eyes.  Felicien inhaled the drink before he reclined in his chair, the wood groaning under the weight of his long and broad frame.

“Darkness falls upon Allerton.  I dare say, we should partake in some celebration, after all, our time here will be limited at best.”

The grin that spread upon Thomas’ face only enhanced the lines around his eyes and mouth, “Oh, you are entirely correct, my dear friend. Call for those two young girls from the outlying town, the brown haired ones with the curls.”

“You seem to be enjoying the company of that look of woman more frequently, Your Majesty.” Felicien never held back the knowing glance that passed between the two.  Thomas’ sly smirk, one known well, answered the question. 

“Whatever could you mean, my good sir?” With a wink, Felicien rose from his chair and headed to one of the squires to retrieve the King’s requests for their evening.

* * *

 

_Arianne_

In another, higher and larger part of the castle, two others commenced a similar celebration.

Arianne let go of the formality, the tension that simmered for so long between her and Benedict.  Deep down if she was to make a decision, it would at least be somewhat on her terms.  She wanted him from the moment he kissed her that first night in his rooms.  She would let this play out by her hand, not on an awkward night after their vows to each other and where she’d play the innocent.  

He would learn she was not some maiden who would act the plaything to his wants.  

She pulled against the short hairs at the back of his head, prompting another moan which she gladly returned.  His fingers already had worked into her bodice, untying the fabric best as he could, but still with a struggle.  Arianne untangled herself from his grasp, twisting the dress to release her from the confines.  Benedict watched in shock before he too began pulling pieces of his tunic and sashes off, throwing them to the floor.

She tried not to think too hard at the fact that she was disrobing in front of a man, a man that she should have allowed to direct this moment. However, if the thoughts in her heart and her head were true, then she still claimed a power over him, no matter his motives for their future.

Taking control of their first intimate act would be the step to her maintaining that power.

She pulled the last loop of her dress and it fell to the floor, only a shift remaining between her and him.  He had managed most of his clothing off, only his breeches which held back his undeniable arousal.  Arianne rushed up to him, allowing her tongue to dance across his, as her hand roamed down his naked chest to the ornate buckle and further below.  A gasp flew from his lips into hers and she pressed her body against him.  She could feel the heat pouring from his skin, his fingers pressed deep into the small of her back.

Her lips danced across his cheek to his jaw, and she whispered in his ear, “Take me, Benedict.”

He needed little further encouragement, picking her up and into his arms before swift steps brought them to his four poster bed.  Suddenly she found herself on silken sheets, his mouth on her neck and his hands roaming her body in places that had been abandoned since Estinés.  Heat pooled between her legs and she gasped for air, wanting nothing more than to relieve the ache that only he could.  His hands pulled at the slip of fabric. She adjusted so he could raise it up and over her head.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.  More than I imagined,” he panted as he gazed at her naked body, her chest pulling for air on every intake.  Her fingers ran to his waist, attempting to remove the last of his clothing, but he laid her onto her back, his hands roaming in her hair.

His forehead to hers, a whisper passed between them, “I need to taste you.” Arianne let out a gasp entangled in a moan as his mouth did as he said.  His lips and hands felt like they were everywhere at once, all over her—licking her breasts, kissing her shoulders, and teasing her stomach. He continued down one of her thighs, and her eyes flashed open to see him looking at her with the same hunger she felt deep within her chest.

Parting her legs, his lips brushed along her inner thigh before his tongue reached her core, slick with desire. Arianne gasped his name, without a care of who would hear her.  All that mattered was their bodies, melded together.

Her fingers dug into the hair at the back of his head and he moaned into her skin, causing her back to arch—fireworks danced across her eyes.  She scrambled for hold on his broad shoulders and he lifted himself from her, finally releasing himself before sliding into her.  Arianne bit down on her lower lip so hard to keep from singing to the heavens, that she swore she’d draw blood.

The two of them gasped for air as Benedict began thrusting, slowly, patiently, to draw out every ounce of pleasure between them. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper to her, as she knew where the places were to bring her to that place of sheer bliss that she became desperate for.

His pants of her name, _Arianne, Arianne_ , grew with intensity as he moved faster against her.  Each thrust delved deeper, while his tongue danced with her open mouth. Feeling him pulling closer and closer to his own peak, she grabbed his hand that held her waist and brought it between them.  

“Like…this,” she gasped as his thumb circled over her nub and her head sank into the soft pillows beneath her.  She moaned against his mouth just as his thrusts faltered and hit that spot deep within, and her passion crested over. Gasping his name as her body clenched and pulsated, her ecstasy prompting  him to fall with her.  She felt the warmth between her thighs, his relieved sighs and gasps against her ear before both of their bodies stilled.  She was reluctant to let him go, clinging to his warmth and the touch of his strong hands on her skin.

“Benedict,” Arianne whispered into his damp hair, still relishing the feel of his fingers on her skin.  Every caress heightened her sensations again as she came down from her euphoric high. His lips brushed her cheek as he pulled her body into his as he rolled onto his back.

All she wanted was sleep, to let all of her thoughts dissipate for just the fraction of a second.  Everything up to this point, drained her of all her faculties. Except one: the voice in the back of her mind that refused to be silent.  It reminded her that she could not let this opportunity slip from her fingers.  

“Benedict,” she murmured once again and his blue eyes met hers. He watched her, scanning her body, memorizing every inch in front of him as if it should be emblazoned in his mind.

“What is it my love?” he whispered back, his fingers dancing throughout the hair that spilled around her.

“I wish to stay here,” floated from her lips, barely audible, before watching his lips curl into a smile.

“I would desire nothing more. I want you by my side for the rest of my days.” He pressed his lips to hers, taking her breath away once more. Her hands roamed the planes of his muscular back, feeling the rise and slope across his skin.  As he released her and kissed down her jawline to her ears, she found her voice again.

“But, promise me, that no harm will come to my homeland.  You’ll not pull them into any unnecessary wars, destroy my lands?”  Benedict raised his head to hers, looking down in confusion.

“Tis not my intentions, I only want what’s best for my country and yours.”

“Will I be able to return? If only to see my family, my people?” Benedict rose onto his elbow and closed his eyes before speaking again.

“Arianne, once we are wed you will be a Queen. You will become a part of one of the strongest countries in all of the world.  While it’s to be expected we may leave England, this will be your home.  Travel to Estinés can be long, and treacherous at any time.  You understand this?”

Arianne shook her head, “It’s my home, Benedict. I was raised there, it is not just land to me, it’s a part of my blood.  Just please, promise me at some point, at some day, I can go back and see it once again.” She knew she was asking for a great deal—a Queen generally would not travel so far.  Her request became a gauge of Benedict’s will.  

“This is what you want?” His fingers looped into her hair, gliding on the skin of her cheek.

“Yes, please,” she begged, pressing her body closer to his.  His eyes fluttered against her warmth and he sighed in defeat.

“If this will calm your fears, then… I promise you Arianne, you can return to Estinés. England would be your home, however, is that understood?”

The smile brightened her face as she gasped. _If he will agree to this, he will agree to it all.  He is the one._

“Yes,” she giggled before her mouth found his and she kissed his cheeks and lips over and over, “Yes, Benedict, I am yours.” They joined together in another passionate kiss, Arianne praising his name as his hands and mouth roamed her body once again.

* * *

 

She was not sure how much time elapsed, minutes or hours, but darkness remained against the windows.  Her eyes focused, pulling from sleep as she turned to find Benedict’s body rising and falling next to her.  Arianne flew from the sheets, realizing she’d been gone from her rooms for far, far too long.

She scrambled from the bed, grasping for her clothes which were strewn about the room, “Gods, no, no…” she murmured as she searched in the dying candlelight that flickered around them.  Benedict stirred at her words, sitting up to find Arianne in a panic.

“What’s the matter?”

“My father and his people and my maidens have no idea where I am! I have no notion of the time, it’s far too late.”

“’Tis no matter,” he smiled, “No one will care. You were with the King, that is at my discretion.”

“I care as to what they would say of me! A Princess spending far too long in the King’s chambers, no matter of their situation, it’s not right! You sister—your _mother_ …” she gasped and felt herself turning shades of crimson as her stomach bottomed out.

Benedict rose from his bed, grasping at a dressing gown and fixing it for himself, “Here, take your things, I’ll fetch a cloak for you.” She pulled on the gown she wore that day, still marred with bits of dirt from her ride.  She could not affix it all properly, and Benedict would have no idea as to her dress’ requirements.  With a gasp, she looked thankfully on him as he walked back with what looked to be a dark cape.

“Wear this, I’ll get you to your rooms without a soul’s knowledge.” He grasped her hand and pulled her to the back of his room.  He lifted one of the tapestries to reveal a door, where a darkened corridor appeared before them.  Benedict reached for one of the smaller candles and led Arianne down the cold, stone stairs. Arianne could feel the wind from outside whipping against the bricks, the chill forcing her to pull the cape tighter.  They reached a landing with another door, and Benedict motioned for Arianne to remain, while he opened it.  Arianne looked past him to find another door covered by a tapestry— this time in her father’s rooms, empty and quiet.  

“A castle has many secrets,” he whispered with a child-like smile.  “Go. Through this is your room.  I believe your father and his men are in the hall, I’ll send a servant to tell them that you were seen by the nurse in my room and taken care of there.  No one shall be the wiser.” She nodded at him, grateful for the discretion.  Before she left him, however, she turned and placed her hands on his cheeks.

“I shall speak with my father in the morning,” she murmured against his lips.  His eyelashes danced across her skin before they kissed once more.  She held his hand for a second longer as the door closed behind her and into the quiet of their rooms.  Arianne took a deep breath and tiptoed across the carpet, holding onto her clothes and the cloak with a vice grip.  She heard murmurs in one of the outer areas, so she scampered across the final few meters into her room.  

As the door closed behind her, she let out a gasp of relief as the smile floated on her lips.  The dress and Benedict’s cloak fell upon the floor as she searched for her own dressing gown.  The few dying embers in the rooms only gave off a bit of light, and she found a candelabra next to her bed. As the last candle glowed in her hands, the door opened behind her.

“Your Highness!” Elissa gasped as she rushed to Arianne’s side, “Where have you been?” Arianne hated to lie to her handmaiden, especially after all she’d done for her in these past weeks, but to keep the charade, she went with the story they concocted.

“I fell ill after my ride with Thomas, and I was found by the Princess Livia and King Benedict.  I was brought to his chambers and seen by a nurse, and I fell asleep.” She tried to smile in the face of her handmaiden’s concerns.

“Are you all right? Dearest, sit down, you’re flushed on your cheeks and skin!” Elissa’s hands roamed Arianne’s face and the Princess could only wave her off in slight embarrassment.

“Yes, the nurse took good care of me. However, there are greater things to be discussed,” she beamed and pat the bed next to her as Elissa’s mouth dropped open.

“I have made my decision.  I shall tell Papa tomorrow.”

* * *

 

With one last hard pull, Elissa fastened the bodice of Arianne’s dress and closed the ties at the dip in her back. Arianne decided on a royal navy gown, one made of velvet with silver trim around the hem and neckline. The joy in Elissa’s face underscored her approval of the Princess’ choice, happy in her limited knowledge of the interaction of her Maiden and the King.

Even though Arianne felt confident in what was to come this morrow, her hands refused to remain still, her heart beating wild in her chest. She calmed her mind, _It is better this way, make everyone believe you are still the nervous virgin, ensnared in a far away land._

Moreno strode through, his men right behind him, before his face beamed at his daughter, “Are you ready my flower? Today is a big, big day!” His large hand palmed her cheek and she nodded to him before he offered her his arm.  Soon the entire entourage flowed behind the father and daughter as they made their way to the throne room.  Even as they walked, Arianne could feel the eyes of one man on her back of her head.

She turned to her father, “This is good, yes?” Her eyes searched him, not just for his approval, but for any sign of where his allegiances lay.

Moreno’s eyes lit up like the night skies, “Yes, my dearest, he is a wonderful match.  I think this will be advantageous for all involved: the joining of England and Estinés.” Arianne wondered what had been promised to her father in this union, and she hoped to find out as soon as wedding plans would be set in place.

They halted at the large doors, right before they swung open.  For a second, Arianne transported back to several weeks ago, when she had stood in this same spot, waited for her name to be called forth to meet the King of England.  How at the time, she wanted to escape from her father and run back to the sea and let it take her home.  

How things had changed as this castle, these lands, would be her home.  How the man directly front of her would become her husband.

As they finally approached the throne, Benedict sat with his brother, Robert and his mother on opposite sides.  The advisors flanked one side, while Livia and Edward remained on the other.  Arianne spied a guarded smile on Livia’s face, but not on any of the others around her.  Arianne felt a rush of cold through her body, wishing Benedict would turn to her with the kind and loving gaze she knew well.

He did not, “King Moreno, Her Royal Highness, Princess Arianne, members of the Court of Estinés.  We welcome you here today, with tidings of wondrous news.  

“Henceforth, as of today, the royal families of Estinés and England have made a pact to become allies. This union shall be blessed in the holy matrimony of myself and King Moreno’s daughter, Arianne.” A loud round of applause cascaded through the crowds as Arianne jumped on her father’s arm.  He laughed as she smiled, before she glanced to Benedict who finally nodded in approval.

“The wedding preparations will begin immediately,” Benedict stated while his eyes roamed the room. “This will be a time of great joy in England and Estinés, and we will feast and there will be celebrations throughout the kingdom!” Another round of applause rose in the large hall and Arianne barely suppressed her smile.  

Benedict strode to Arianne and her father.  The Princess kept her head down, allowing her long brown curls to frame her face, and cover her reactions.

“King Moreno, I would like a word with your daughter,” Benedict stated, and Arianne could feel herself become slightly heady with anticipation.  Her father murmured in agreement and she looked up to him offering her hand to Benedict.  With a turn the two began to leave the Hall, but not before their paths were blocked.

“Cousin, Arianne.”  Thomas grinned, as though he himself were the winning suitor, “May I be the first to congratulate the both of you on this blessed occasion? I dare say, never has there been such a fortuitous joining of kingdoms as this between England and Estinés.” Benedict remained as a statue, his eyes fixed on his cousin while his face never moved.  

Arianne, meanwhile could only hold back her gasp as Thomas bowed to them, “May your union bring much change to both countries. Oh, and I look forward to your fateful day, which I can imagine shall commence soon?”

“As soon as possible Thomas. Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Benedict barely moved his mouth as he spoke, holding Arianne closer to his body.

“Of course!” Thomas cheered, holding out his arms wide, “Blessings onto the both of you.” He sidestepped from them, giving them passage.  Benedict and Arianne moved down the main hallway into one of the inner rooms, which appeared to be a library.

The door closed behind them and he let out a gasp, “Thank gods, that’s done,” he looked up to her with a smile and she gave him one back, right before she rushed into his arms.  His lips descended onto her and his hand gripped into the fabric on her back.

Breathless, they separated and Benedict pressed his forehead to hers, “May our day arrive soon, I'll never be able to keep myself from you for long.”

Arianne hummed her agreement, “We must be cautious, so there is no talk of impropriety.”

“Yes, but, you know the way into my chambers,” he purred into her ears.  “At night, when all are sleeping and silent, you and I can meet in the moonlight.” Her breaths wavered with her body, anticipating the next time her hands could meet his skin. She wondered why she ever cried tears when Xavier left her.  Being with Benedict made her feel every inch of her skin was lit on fire from within.

With a bit of hesitation, he pulled away from her and reached into his pocket.  Arianne watched as the blue stone, larger than her eyes, appeared in his hand.

“For our union, to signify the marriage of both of our families…” He placed it on her hand, and the weight almost made her drop to the floor.  She held it up, amazed at how the light danced across all the stones as brilliant rainbows appeared all around her. Arianne looked to Benedict, speechless.

“It was my mother’s, my father gave it to her not long before he passed. I wanted it for you.”

“Benedict,” she gasped, “It’s beautiful.”

“Not nearly as much as you,” he murmured and his hand wound around her neck and into her hair.  Just before their lips touched, there was a knock at the door.  Both parties adjusted themselves as Benedict cleared this throat.

He turned back to her before whispering, “Tonight?”

“Tonight,” she grinned as Benedict bellowed to allow entrance to his advisor.  Arianne looked down on the ring--her ring, still adjusting to the weight it brought upon her hand.


	10. The King....and his Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a mini-chapter between the chapters! A reader asked for a little something about Aria and Benedict and Thomas after seeing a photograph. I had to oblige...so ....here's a little something to segue into the next chapter...
> 
> Take heed like the BBC Warning: Contains some upsetting scenes.

 

The sound of trumpets filled the air, and Arianne looked up to the bright blue skies filled with puffy white clouds.  The sounds of cheering rang from below, and a roar would pick up every so often. A sense of consistent merriment emanated from the crowds that congregated for their King and new Queen.

Her hands again smoothed out the bodice that held a heavy white gown covered in navy flowers and lace.  The unrelenting smile that refused to leave her face began to ache, but she did not care.  Her heart was full on this joyous day.

She turned to find her groom, Benedict, clad in a matching navy cape, fitted with gold sashes and clasps across his chest.  His smile came close to matching Aria’s, and he bent down once more to place his soft lips upon hers.  Her eyes fluttered closed at his gesture, the feel of his hand pressed into her waist. When he released her, he bit his lower lip, obviously noting the flush on his bride’s cheeks.

Arianne gazed into her husband’s eyes, reflecting the love he had for her.  She trailed up to his crown, sitting high upon his head.  Her free hand went to her own crown: gold with sapphires strewn throughout, which had become surprisingly comfortable on her brow.

“Shall we?” he murmured in his deep baritone voice that still sent shivers down her spine.  With only one nod, she turned again to her handmaidens, all dressed in their finery, before they handed her a scepter to take on her climb.  Holding Benedict’s hand, they rose up the dozen or so stairs to the top of the balcony, where throngs of countrymen, Lords and Ladies awaited their arrival.  

Once in view, the trumpets sounded once more, prompting Arianne to jump in her shoes.  Benedict laughed at her innocence, tightening his grip onto her hand, as they both waved to the crowds below.  Next to them, small children showered bright white rose petals around them, falling at their feet.  

As the music ended, Benedict once again took his bride’s hand down the stairs, where their wedding feast was staged.  Their seats, high up on the dais, looked out over the hundred or so guests who were privileged enough to sup with their King and new Queen.

Arianne saw her father, his eyes bright and shining at his daughter.  She even spied Victoria, now demoted from her title, looking pleased at the events.  As the royal stewards ushered them towards the middle of the arena, a voice pierced through the din of the crowd.

“ _Cousin_.”

Both Arianne and Benedict turned to Thomas, his blue eyes as deep as the stones that rested on her head.  He, of all those around him, bore no smile, no flicker of goodwill.  With quick feet, he strode to Benedict, taking both him and his bride by surprise.

She opened her mouth to scream, to warn Benedict, when she saw the glint in Thomas’ hand.  Benedict turned to shield Arianne, but she was not the target of Thomas’ rage.  With his teeth bared as a tiger readying for an attack, his hand sliced through the air, and into Benedict’s throat.

Benedict’s body collapsed into Arianne’s, and screams exploded around her.  It all played in slow motion: Benedict falling to the floor, the red blood seeping out of his neck and around his head, Arianne reaching out for him, trying to place her hands to stop the flow from his wound.  For a moment, she heard her own wails, she felt the warmth gush into her fingers.

All went silent as she looked up, Thomas standing above her.  The same dark eyes, the same cold, unfeeling stare pierced straight to her soul.  His hand slashed in front of her again, and she went to protect Benedict.  However, it was not her beloved who sustained the blow.

She could feel the attempts to breathe, her hollow, bubbled gasps unnatural in her ears.  When her body collapsed onto the still form of her husband, her eyes fell on the white petals that surrounded them, stained and soaked in red blood…….

* * *

Arianne shot up in her bed as she let out a blood curdling scream, her hands still pressed into her neck.

“Princess!” Elissa cried as she rushed into her charge’s room, “Are you alright?”  The worried eyes of her handmaiden met Arianne before her cool fingers rested against the Princess’ cheeks.

As she gasped for air, Arianne nodded, “Yes…I…I had a nightmare. It is all right, I am well.” She pulled Elissa’s hands away and the younger woman eyed her for a second.

“Princess?”

“I am fine, Elissa.  You may go back to sleep.” Reluctantly, Elissa left Arianne in the dark of her room. As the door closed, Arianne looked down at the heavy ring that rested on her left hand.  The Princess could only hazard as to why her nights would be plagued so often with such horrifying visions….


	11. I Am Hers, She Is Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As preparations for the royal wedding grow closer, the parties learn that their fates are not what they expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of the first act, but there is more to come. Thank you to all the loyal readers, your support keeps this story going! As with the last one-shot ****Take heed like the BBC Warning, Contains some upsetting scenes.****

Arianne attempted to keep her body still while pulled in different directions by the hands on either side of her.  When she thought her bodice that wrapped around her waist could not become tighter, she found herself wrong. How she would be able to breathe during her wedding grew to be an increasing concern.

“Oh, Arianne,” Livia gasped as she stepped around the yards of fabric that filled the floor, “You look stunning, my dear.  This is quite the coronation and wedding gown. I dare say that it will be written and discussed the world over.” Her fingers ran down the white silk fabric on Arianne’s arm, prompting the younger princess to smile.

“It’s heavy,” Arianne murmured as her head tilted to the train that would run several meters behind her.  Two seamstresses cut and fashioned the fabric, while one had begun stitching the lace and embroidery.  

Livia merely rose an eyebrow before taking another sip of her wine, “’Tis the price of a gown of this magnitude.  You’ll need to have your strength on that day, this is certain.” Her deep brown eyes roamed over Arianne’s body, motioning to one of the sewers that the hem should be longer in the front.

“Oh, no,” Arianne interjected, “I decided, I would rather it be shorter—“ but she halted as Livia cut her off.

“I know that things are done differently in Estinés, Arianne, but you must understand.  This is England, and the traditions must be kept.  We may be headed into more temperate climes, but make no mistake, your gown must be an appropriate length. A bride  must appear traditional, formal. Would be considered disrespectful, otherwise.” Her eye focused on Arianne, while she sighed inwardly. Livia resorted back to the ‘tone’ of knowledge, one Arianne heard often in these past weeks.

“You should take heed of my daughter’s words, Princess Arianne.” A voice shot through the room and every one of the seamstresses halted their work to bow their heads to the Queen Mother.  Arianne curtseyed and did the same, while Livia merely tilted her head.

 _The old Queen never seems to smile, perhaps that was why her face has so few wrinkles,_ Arianne wondered as she stared into the deep blue eyes offset by silver white hair.  She’d spent few moments with her future mother-in-law and none where the woman addressed Arianne directly.  There was a sense of the air shifting in the room, almost pulled towards Victoria as if she’d snuff it all out with a flick of her wrist.  Arianne did not move a muscle, paralyzed by the sight.

Victoria’s eyes scanned over the long white gown, it’s intricate decorations in navy blue striking against the pale background.  Arianne watched her in awe, as Victoria’s long fingers cascaded over the fabric.  It was easy to see the resemblance between the Queen and her son. They had the same eyes, the same lips, the same superior air.

“Weddings at Allerton are a grand and royal affair.  Livia is correct and can attest to that, as she was in this position, herself.” With a hard sniff, Victoria’s eyes finally shifted to her daughter who turned and reclined on one of the large and plush cushions that were stationed throughout her rooms.  

Victoria’s hard gaze returned to Arianne, “We kept to tradition here, and that being said, the royal family is one that is looked upon to keep those traditions whole. It is what bounds us and keeps us above all others.  

“This wedding, especially, is the joining of two powerful countries. It is also one would produce a new Queen to the throne.  This is above all else, sacred.  The ceremony, and all that it entails, is to be as we have always done, my dear.  Nothing less.” Her hand rose to Arianne’s cheek and the younger girl anticipated the cold feel of her fingers upon her skin.  Instead, Victoria moved some of Arianne’s hair from her face and tucked it behind her ears.

“We are sovereigns of grace. You will understand, as time passes.” Victoria turned to the seamstresses whose eyes had grown large in their time next to the Queen.

“There needs to be more blue lining on this dress as well as in the bodice.  The back should have the seal of England’s crest as well. I will anticipate the progress as things move forward and no time is to be spared on this.  You should be working around the clock for preparation.  The ceremony is to be within the fortnight, as per my son’s request.” Another eyebrow raise of the Queen to Arianne shut every thought down in the younger woman’s mind.  

Arianne only let out a meek sigh before nodding her head with a curt smile, “I understand, your Grace. Thank you.” Victoria turned as her servants rushed forward to open the doors, but her voice remained solid enough to hear on her retreat.

“Livia, I expect to see you this evening for our meal.” With those words, the door closed behind her and Arianne released the breath that had been caught in her throat.

Livia rose up, swishing her wine glass around, “Our family is solidly keen on tradition, Arianne.  Best be getting used to that.” She chuckled and Arianne found herself doing the same, but for a different reason. As Livia continued to walk around the dress, Arianne found the courage to ask a question that burned in her mind.

“Livia, when you married, was it not the same as this? The same expectations?” Her eyes remained on the deep browns which closed before the merriment left Livia’s voice.

“Oh, no, my wedding was not as grand as yours will be, I’m afraid.  My husband was of a smaller land, not too far north from France.  We were to be a political connection, I am certain of no more than that. My husband’s country was rich in minerals and supplies and a steady workforce which would have been quite useful, if necessary. Unfortunately, he was not in line to be King, as his older brother held the crown and had several male heirs by the time we were wed.

“My husband’s untimely death left England without those supports, and the loss of that connection.  I was not necessary anymore, hence my long and enjoyable days here at Allerton.” Her face expanded into a sweet smile, but Arianne continued to push.

“I am sorry for your loss, Livia.”

“Dont be,” she muttered before turning and filling up her glass.  

“You know, Arianne, you’re lucky to be marrying my brother.  He may be less worldly and lacks some of the ease or charm as I’m sure you’re accustomed to from the men in Estinés.  However, you can’t go wrong with a match in a King.” She offered the younger girl her cup, and Arianne found herself reaching for it before thinking too much.  She took a few hard swallows of the wine before Livia continued.

“I believe together, the two of you will make a fine union.  You’ll be that energy, a spark in his life that he’s never had before. I am confident you have been these past weeks.” Arianne nearly choked on her glass before Livia snickered and took it back.  Her hand waved lazily through the air before she took a drink.

“Arianne, you’ll come to realize that things will be quite comfortable for you here in England.  Heavens, who could be despondent in becoming a Queen?”

* * *

 

Arianne sat at her chair that evening, her eyes focused on her form in the mirror while she combed out her hair.  The words of Benedict’s sister rang in her head, words that she had heard before: tradition,  formal.  She kept wondering about those words and how they would impact her in her life in England.

 _Did I make this decision too rashly, a false belief that he felt as I? Are my beliefs real, or have I placed myself right into his hands, a situation that he wanted?_ Unease filled her as she kept brushing the same stands over and over again.  

It did not help matters that Benedict had been occupied as of late, their evening encounters becoming more sporadic as the weeks progressed.  She saw him in fleeting moments, if at all, and it wore on her.  There were only so many days she could ride or stitch and it was unbecoming for her to travel with others at this point.  She was betrothed to the King, she could not be going off on walks with other men, and her ladies grew tiresome on her.

That familiar tightness around her body returned, and along with it, nights of fitful sleep. She only wished for this wedding to take place and be done with. Maybe things would change then.

So lost in her thoughts, she never heard her door opening.  That was until a voice pierced through the relative silence.

“Good evening, Princess,” Thomas said, causing Arianne to drop her brush as she flew from her seat.

“Thomas!” she hissed, “What are you doing here? It-it’s improper, where—where are my ladies?”

His smile only perked one side of his mouth before he slowly strode into the room, “There is no one in the outer rooms, they must all be downstairs for their meals.” Arianne continued to back around her chair, a feeling of nausea pitting in her stomach.  She had not spoken with Thomas since the day of the engagement announcement, and hoped he would leave with his people and return to France.  Every day he remained left a sense of foreboding, as if he waited for her wedding to create chaos.

His presence was part of that chaos, she was certain, and she felt the sweat prick on her neck as she gasped, “What do you want?”

“Merely to speak with you, Princess.  Or shall I call you, _‘Your Grace’_.  Seems fitting, since that will be your title in the not-too-distant future.” His smile never left his lips, while it never fully reached his eyes.  

Arianne’s hands gripped into the chair, “Speak, then. This is not appropriate—“

“But it was appropriate all those weeks you were dancing around this castle with myself and your betrothed? Please.” He snatched the chair from her hands before he sat in it and crossed one leg over the other.

“I came here to make you an offer.  A one time chance, if you may, to make a decision for yourself.”  Arianne backed into the small vanity, cringing as it rattled behind her, and causing Thomas to smirk even more. He brought a carefree air around him, but his words came forth with heavy meaning.

“Weeks ago, I came to you with my own proposal.  To see this world and become my Queen. A Queen who will rule with an iron fist or a soft palm, whatever you prefer.  A Queen with a voice, not a subservient toy that will be played on by those around her.”

Fury raced across her skin, “Stop! You know nothing of my thoughts, Thomas.  Indeed, you may be able to offer me all that there is you may have at your disposal, but I know you are desperate. You want my support for the connection it builds and with that my father’s lands and people.

“I have made my voice clear and my decision heard.  I have chosen the man I want to marry, and I know that he will allow me reign to be a benevolent Queen in England.”

He barely held back his laughter as he countered, “Promises made in one’s bed are oftentimes not considered promises at all.  One is not in the right frame of mind to make such heady decisions.”

The anger flashed on her cheeks, heat firing within her, “How dare you make that insinuation! Leave here at once!”  Instead he did not move one muscle, rather laughing directly towards her.  With gritted teeth, she flew across to him and pulled against the maroon leather of his jacket.  A desperate but foolhardy attempt to remove him.

His grip that snatched her arm was strong, and fierce, “Castles have many walls, and ears which to listen.  And your song sang the sweetest heard within it.” He pulled her closer to his face, close enough to see his pupils contract.

“I tell you this.  Make this decision and you will regret it, Princess. You will never be happy here, no matter how many people you placate in the time.” With a thrust, he let go of her hand and she stumbled backward, holding onto her throbbing skin.

He continued, “You know it in your heart you belong with me.  You want me, you feel it deep within you.  Maybe even while he’s loving you, your mind turns to me—am I wrong?”

“Get out!” she screamed, “Be gone, and leave this castle! I swear, I will tell Benedict everything you have said and he’ll kill you first.  Leave!”  Tears sprung to her eyes, still reeling backwards.  She watched him as he rose from the chair, calmly smoothing out his jacket and tunic before adjusting his straps and armor.

“I shall leave. But not without a warning, Princess.” He walked over to where she stood, with a casual air, as if they were discussing the weather.

He tilted his head to her, “You may believe you have made your decision, but it is sadly not true. Your life is not your own.  With that, I shall leave Allerton.  I wish you luck.”  Arianne readied for another arm to reach for her, wrapping her arms around her waist.  Instead he turned and left as quietly as he entered.  Once the door closed, Arianne dashed for it and threw on the lock.

It was at that moment she realized her hands were shaking, and in fact, her whole body was shaking.  None of what he said made sense, only that she knew she never wanted to see Thomas again.  Resting her ear against the door, she listened for any sounds in the outer rooms.  After a few minutes of silence passed, she peered out.

All was as it should  The candles flickered, the fireplace crackling in the far end of the room.  She looked across to her father’s chamber, where the staircase to Benedict’s rooms remained.  Fleetingly, she wondered if she should creep down to find him, to tell him of what happened.  He would force Thomas and all his men to leave immediately, that she felt certain.

What if he was not in his rooms, or worse, there was a member of his family? _Improper_.  And if she roamed the halls at the late hour looking for him? _Improper_.  She slammed her door shut, and locked it once more.  With a hand to her head, she wondered where her maidens could be—if they were readying for bed themselves.  Her hand still shook as Arianne grabbed a goblet full of water near her bed, wishing it was some of the wine Livia had offered her earlier.  

* * *

 

The first thing she heard was the crash, the sound of items overturned in the outer room.  Sleep still clung to her, as she rolled to her side, wondering of the time.  The two small candles flickered by her door, but all else was dark.  With a groan, she noted it was late into the night.  Rising up onto one of her elbows, she could make out the shadows beyond her door, and how they moved back and forth.

A muted scream was next, which removed any notion of rest in Arianne.  Cautiously, she placed one foot onto the cool floor, straining to hear what was happening outside.  She wondered, were some of her father’s men coming back late—from who knows where—and scaring the women?

Tiptoeing to the door, Arianne held the lapels of her nightgown together as she pressed to it.

She could hear speaking, voices—women and men, when one voice raised in anger.  Arianne did not think twice, only to calm them down, as she turned the lock and opened it.

There were men, but not her father’s men.  They were cloaked, and positioned through the room, Arianne felt the breath leave her as she saw what lay at their feet.  

Bodies.  The bodies of some of her ladies, and members of her father’s guard.  Furniture overturned, blood seeping into the carpets and dripping down the walls.  A sob cried out from one end and Arianne turned to find Elissa, cowering before a tall man standing above her.  She held up her hands in defense, eyes focused on where Arianne saw the long knife positioned high above her.  

Arianne gasped, the word _no_ flitting from her lips, as both turned to her.  Her eyes went first to the assailant and she froze. She knew this man—one of Thomas’ men.  She’d seen him on several occasions, and fear broke in that realization.  

Elissa’s eyes went wide as she screamed, “Run, Princess!” That took the attention away from Arianne and back to Elissa, right before the knife slammed down into her chest, causing a muted gurgle from Elissa.  Even in the limited light, Arianne watched Elissa’s gown turn dark, as the young girl attempted to grasp at the blood that flowed onto the floor.  Elissa groaned and slumped over to her side, giving her attacker a moment to now face the Princess.

Arianne’s breaths picked up, knowing the one way out of this scene was the hidden staircase which prayerfully led to Benedict. She flew as fast as her feet could carry her through the rooms, as the other soldiers attempted to stop her as she raced past. One grabbed part of her nightgown, ripping fabric off as she let it loose behind her. Throwing her father’s door closed, she slammed her hands into her mouth as she spied his bed.

More blood, a body on the floor crumpled next to it.  She went to touch him, see his face, but the slams on the door pulled her away.   _There’s only moments before they come in here._ She scrambled to the tapestry for entrance and raced down the stairs.  

She could see the lights by Benedict’s door, a flickering of a candle near it.   _Maybe he is inside, maybe he’s inside—_ but her feet halted on the cold stone stairs as a figure appeared at the base.

Thomas.  

“Hello, Princess.”  Arianne vacillated between running back or screaming for help.  If the actions of the men upstairs held any weight, her screams would do her no good. She turned for the upper door, in the hopes she could possibly escape, when Thomas’ man—the one who killed Elissa— appeared at the top.

“Why?” she gasped with a sob, “Why do you have to do this?” Her hands raised to her throat, trying to protect herself from whatever horrors lay before her.  Cold fear pricked her skin as it became clear.

Here she would die, in this cold, dark corridor.  She would die alone, away from her family, her beloved.  She would die in a place that was never her home.

“Oh, Princess,” Thomas soothed as he walked up to her, and his man walked downward, “I have to because it’s my destiny.  And, you are a part of that.  I tried to warn you…”

“Please,” she sobbed as tears ran down her face, her knees buckling out from under her, “Please…” She kept begging, words failing her at the sight of his emotionless blue eyes upon her. She sank into the stone walls, wishing it would swallow and protect her.

“While I’ve longed to hear you pleas,” he said with a mirthless laugh, “I look forward to it in a more, shall we say, intimate setting.”

Arianne’s hands dropped to her sides, realization setting in as he finished, “I said I would leave Allerton.  I never said I would do it without you.”

Arms wrapped around her waist and hands raised to her lips as she tried to struggle with all her might to break free.  However, she was no match for Thomas’ man, for he was stronger and taller.  He easily held her against his chest as she gasped for air. Something soft pressed on her lips, the smell of sickly sweet entering her nose.  She tried to claw and scratch away, but her vision dulled instantly and her dangling feet began to slow. Darkness overtook her, and all fell silent.

Thomas looked upon Arianne’s limp form and then to Felicien, “Ensure her safety on the boat.  We’ve not a moment to lose before Benedict’s men realize what’s happened.”  Thomas reached for Arianne’s hand and pulled off the large sapphire before tucking it into his pocket.  

The two men shared a knowing look as Thomas unleashed his sword.

“Kill anyone in your path,” he instructed, “Burn the rest.”  Felicien nodded and wrapped the princess up in his cloak, carrying her up and through her former rooms before ordering retreat to the remaining men.  They soon flew out and down the main stairs towards the gates, as alarms commenced in the far ends of the castle.  

With a swift kick, Felicien knocked a torch that adorned the great doors to the apartments.  Fire cascaded down onto the plush carpeting, rapidly igniting the fabric before it raced towards the curtains.  

* * *

 

Benedict sat in the great hall, amidst many of his servants, soldiers and family.  There was a morbid silence in the room, the faint acrid smell still permeating every inch around them.  After a long siege throughout the night, they were able to contain the fire to the rooms Arianne and her family occupied without it spreading to the rest of the castle.

 _Arianne_.  His eyes closed again, every time he thought of her name or visualized her face, he felt as if he himself had suffered in the fire.  A bowl of porridge sat untouched, his eyes turning to those who sat at the tables before him.

He felt the need to be with them, to thank all of them for saving as much as they could.  To help in a time of great need.   _She would have done that,_ he thought.  

Livia turned to him, her eyes still raw and red, “Brother, you need to eat.”

“So, do you,” he intoned, before looking back at both of their dishes which were left cold and pale.  Words failed him, even though he gave his thanks to each and every one of the people in the hall.

Aidan walked through the tables, sitting next to Benedict, “It’s cleared, we have begun to survey the damage.  It will take time to repair, but the builders believe—“

“What about the—?” he choked before swallowing another glass of wine.

Aidan only shook his head with a grimace, “Hard to tell.  We did not know all of their people and also some others were involved. There are French guards also who fought with Moreno’s men. The fire destroyed a great deal.”  

“Thank you,” Benedict managed before hearing his name called from the familiar voice of Ser Crofton as he strode forth.  After a bow, he addressed his King.

“Your Grace, I must speak with you. It is imperative.” Benedict wanted nothing to do with the daily life of the castle at that moment.  With a disgusted sigh, he rose from his seat and followed Crofton out towards the Main Hall.  Smoke still lingered in the morning air, creating a haze through the light that shone through the windows.

“Your Grace, I believe the Princess is with King Thomas.”  

Benedict felt his mouth dropping open, his eyes widening.  He did not want to cling to hope, but wordlessly he asked for confirmation of Crofton’s beliefs. Since he was pulled from his bed the night before and watched the fires rage across the castle, he felt as if a piece of him had been ripped apart.  He lost a part of his body, and the thought of it returning could be too much to believe.

After a deep inhale, Crofton held up Arianne’s ring—the glittering diamonds and sapphire still shining in the muted light.  With a gasp, Benedict snatched it from Crofton’s hand and whispered.

“Where did you find this?”

“The stables, Your Grace.  It hung from a rope above the area Thomas kept his horses.  No one thought to go in the search, assuming he’d taken them after the massacre.” He paused for Benedict’s full attention.

“There was also this.”  With shaking hands, Benedict took the letter, fastened with the seal of the King of France.

The parchment only held these words: _She Is Mine._

A heavy silence hung between the two as Crofton continued, “She’s with him, and not on her on accord.” He turned the ring over to show a smattering of blood creased around it.

Benedict closed his hand around the ring, as if it brought a life force back into him.  Teeth grinding, his pulse racing, he felt like he lost ten years from his frame.  He again had purpose, that was clear.

He turned to Crofton, “Then we will bring her back.”


	12. A Bird Without Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arianne awaits her fate as her journey to France nears it’s end. Benedict prepares his armies to rescue her, but he realizes there are more forces at play in England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we’ve made it to the Second Act! Thanks to everyone still reading, you guys have kept this story going! It’s time to take a trip to France, and see more of Thomas’ devious ways

 

Aria had no concept as to the length of time that passed until she realized she was a prisoner sailing upon the sea.  The setting came first, when she awoke with a horrific pain in her head and a sickness beyond all else in her stomach.  The infernal rocking, the sea spray, the birds cries, all collided one morning as she stumbled towards a window.  

Blue seas and skies as far as the horizon took her greeted her vision. It would be another day before she pieced together the rest of her situation.

Waking in clothes stained with blood and dirt was her first remembrance of the horrid events before the world went black.  Then, bits and pieces of the sounds: the screams, the crunch of knives in skin, echoed in her mind.  Finally, after she settled from the pain of those memories, she could hear Thomas’ words in that dark and cold corridor.  The corridor that rested mere feet from her love and his safety.

_“I said I would leave Allerton.  I never said I would do it without you.”_

She sat in the belly of one of those forsaken French ships.  All those weeks ago, she believed herself to be looking at the riches that rested upon the foretold precipice of greatness that was in France’s grasp.  Little did she know, those ships perched on the English coast were there for her abduction and escape across the sea.

After she caught her bearings and finally felt her stomach settle somewhat, the realization dawned of the loss of her friends, her confidant and most importantly, her father.  

She lay awake at night, cursing herself for not going to help him.  He might have been alive still; she could have brokered herself to save him.  Then he would have been able to recover, and in turn crossed the seas to save her. After all, how can she support Thomas without her father’s consent?  Who would have that authority if he was dead?

A cold chill went through her body at the knowledge that the second in command outside of the family would be none other than her former lover, Xavier.  Was he behind all of this?  And most importantly, did anyone realize this was not of her will?

 _Benedict_.  Would he even come for her?  Did he think her dead in those rooms with Elissa and her Father? Maybe he found out she was kidnapped—but would he even go the course with Thomas to rescue her? She had to believe it so.

For a second, her hand felt for where her ring had laid, and had now been replaced by a deep cut on her finger.  Arianne had too many questions, and no answers.

Her only company, save the birds outside her window, was the old and scrawny cook that delivered and retrieved her meals. After piecing all the parts together to her state, she decided it was time to test some of her surroundings.  When she heard the door unlock that morning for her breakfast, she rushed towards it—to be greeted with a knife pointed towards her throat.

“Easy,” he growled through a set of uneven teeth.

“Take me to see King Thomas.  I demand it, as the Princess of Estinés.”

He scoffed with a sneer, “He ain’t here, _Princess_.” With that, her tray of food slapped onto the table and he disappeared.  She attempted the door, but the lock snapped shut.  The title of prisoner became her current status.

She did what she could at that time: she cried. She cried until the tears refused to fall anymore and her body hurt from shaking.  When that failed to do her any good, she paced the room, raging at everyone she could imagine from Thomas, to her father, to Benedict to Estinés itself.  

Actualization came in the form of a moment of clarity.  After another silent interaction with her jail keeper and his horrendous food, she decided to take control of what she could.  What she could control was how she handled her imprisonment.

 _If Thomas is truly not on board, then everyone on here will have to answer if something happens to me._ While the windows were too small for her to climb through to the sea, she could make herself smaller in another way.  At that point onward, her hunger strike commenced.

The old man did not notice after the first two trays went uneaten.  However, by the third, he began the grunting towards her. It ended up not as difficult as it would seem to ignore his horrible food, once she got past the first two days.  Arianne stared out the windows, watching the clouds and the birds above. She imagined what Benedict would have been doing, her sister or her handful of friends back home.  Her imagination kept her entertained.

The grunting grew louder on the fourth day.  When he came to retrieve her dinner, he simply growled.  Even with her limited movements, Arianne felt faint and tired, even from just moving from one area of the bedroom to another.  When the door opened again, she felt she could rush for it—but she remained fixed at the sight.

Standing in the doorway was the hardened and dark face of Thomas’ advisor, Felicien.  He was the assassin who murdered Elissa and countless others.  She did not hold back her disgust at him, even though he seemed merely inconvenienced by her presence.

He pointed to the wardrobe, “Put on clothes.  I’m going to show you something, Princess.”  While she wished to rage against him, she knew this had to be played carefully. In the end, maybe she could kill Thomas before she would be trapped in a castle instead of a ship.

She pulled out a plain black dress that was blessedly simple to affix. When she went for the door, she found it open—and Felicien waiting for her with an extended elbow.

“I doubt you have the strength to make it up these stairs without help.  Best not to be stubborn in such conditions, Princess.”  Begrudgingly, she took his arm to ascend to the upper level of the ship, and paused in amazement at the sight.

Men rushed all over the deck, pulling cords, affixing barrels and the like.  However, as she ascended higher, she saw Felicien’s purpose—the fleet of ships that sailed around and behind them, all with French banners proudly displayed on the masts.

“You see? Your little protest means nothing in the grand scheme. You’re to become a Queen, why would you want to waste away before the fun begins?”

She growled, “You think me a fool? I know what you plan to do to me.”

“No, no, Princess.  You think us to be barbaric when clearly we are here for your best interests.  You see, you were making a poorly planned decision, and one that did not fit our goals.  So, we made a new plan for you—one that makes more sense.

“Estines will align with France.  I believe once you understand your situation you’ll feel differently about the matter.”

“I will never consent to a marriage with Thomas.  You’ll have to drag my body kicking and screaming to an altar.”

He let out a low _tsk_ before shaking his head, “It shouldn’t be so horrid.  My, with all the riches, jewels and luxury you’ll have draped upon you, you’ll think differently.”

“Never.”

He leaned into her more, his beard glistening with red from the sun, “I wonder if your sister Sofia said those same words? When she was sent far away to another land as a bride? Nowadays, from what I know, your sister is quite content.  The birds sing she is expecting a child soon.”

Aria’s hand flew to slap him for saying her name, “ _Bastard_ —”

Felicien proved too fast on her and grabbed her arm mid-air, “No, Princess, you see—that is why we need you to be healthy and happy.  We would not want to find ourselves looking for trouble where there is none.

“It would be a shame to have something dreadful happen to Sofia and her child if her sister cannot comply with simple instructions.  Like taking part in her meals.”

She wrenched her hand out of his grasp and his smile brought only further fury into her chest.

“Good girl. Now, I’ll send Pascal to bring you some food.  Remember, your health means the health of your sister and her child.”  He gave her a condescending nod before walking away, leaving her to sway back and forth on the deck of the ship.

* * *

Benedict stood at the table in the Royal Quarters, usually used for serving meals, but now covered in parchment and figures.  Between him and Crofton, lay several dozen maps of England and of France from the archives.  Small statues indicated the area of forces from each section of the country and the scope of England’s army.

So focused on the task at hand, they never noticed the door opening for the Queen and her advisor close to her heels.

“Well, what are the counts today?” she asked, breaking their concentration and furrowing Benedict’s brow.

He waved his hand to the table, “Currently fifteen thousand.  However, we’re still receiving reports from the North.”

“We could use another five thousand before we begin final preparations,” Crofton murmured under his breath as he looked at another register.

Victoria’s eye turned to the table and back to Benedict, “It’s a decent number. Have you sent a messenger to France for a peace treaty?”

“Of course.” Benedict grunted, “It’s a worthless task, but at least we’ll have some indication of his forces at the port.  He will arrive no later than a few day’s time once Thomas’ ships land.”

“And possibly our man will catch a glance of Arianne,” she furthered, watching Benedict the entire time.  Ser Reginald coughed, finally bringing the younger men’s attention forward.

“Is there something you require, Mother? You’ve brought Ser Reginald with you, so I would assume it necessitates your safe transport from one end of the castle to another.”

His mother chuckled under her breath, “Yes.  Gentlemen, please leave me and my son alone.”  Crofton glanced at Benedict, who gave a weary nod of approval. Once both advisors left, Victoria circled around the table.

“Quite the strategy, making you sail across the seas to re-capture what’s been taken from you.  You’re a regular Menelaus, retrieving his Helen of Troy.”

Benedict watched Victoria continue to slowly walk around, playing with figure pieces in her hands.  He refused to comment to her, recognizing the pattern.  Begin with an insult to enrage her victim and then move into her attack.  However, after everything that happened—from meeting Aria to the proposal and then to the fire—he felt prepared for her games.

He waited, and watched her.  When she looked up, she could only sigh.

“Did all of this planning dull your brain?” Her voice was far too sweet for his liking.

“Just get to your point.  I have work to do.” He turned from her to pick up another register.

His plan worked, as she let her facade down with a monotone voice, “I hear you are taking Robert with you.”

“Of course.  He is a strategical soldier, a smart analyst and is ready to coordinate the troops.”  

She methodically tapped her finger on the table, “It stands to reason he should remain here.  England requires a strong ruler in your absence.”

Benedict’s eyebrow rose as his voice went stern, “Aidan will remain. You and Livia will be here to help guide him.”

“But, he’s still too young, he’s never had a moment of thought for the throne.”

“Matters not, no one is prepared when the throne is given to them.”

She shook her silver hair as her eyes closed, “It is not a wise decision.  Robert is—“

Benedict lost his patience as he roared, “I have made the decision! It is done! You have no say in this matter.  While you are Queen Regent, I am the King!  Robert will sail with Ser Crofton and myself.  Aidan is to remain, he needs to learn how to be a ruler, if the time should come.”

Victoria’s shuddering breaths left no question to her disappointment.  Benedict let out a low huff from his lips.

“How you care for Robert’s return.  Yet, you care not for mine.”

She ignored his words.  “Aidan is too young, too fragile to be a ruler of England.  He needs more time, he needs instruction.”

“My decision is final, Mother.”  He crossed to her and looked directly into her cold blue eyes, so like his own.

“If I find a breath of involvement on your part to hinder Robert, you will learn that my wrath has no bounds.  My tolerance for any and all of your antics disappeared on the night my betrothed was taken from me.  Understood?” The words held weight, even as Benedict whispered them from his lips.

Victoria’s hardened stare focused on Benedict, but to her chagrin, she found he would not back down.  She raised her head before turning to the doors.

“You are the King, as you say.”  She screamed for Reginald, who flew forward to assist his Queen.  As they descended down the stairs, Ser Crofton returned to Benedict’s side.

“What is her ploy?” Crofton asked, still looking at the space she stood—her presence still felt in the room.

Benedict turned to his most trusted friend and advisor, “Keep a keen eye on her, but even more, focus on that snake in the grass, Reginald.  She is too calm in all of this, too composed after a direct attack on our home.” He stopped to allow his voice to drop just below a whisper.

“There’s a connection to Robert we do not know yet.  I can promise I will not rest until I find it.”

* * *

As the boat landed upon the shore, Arianne could feel the pace quicken in the ship’s interior.  After so many days at sea, she could feel her legs still shook, her stomach still remained in knots.  While they were in movement, she tried not to allow her dark, horrible thoughts to continue.  Seeing land from her window told her that her fate had arrived sooner than she feared.  

The door swung open, Felicien awaiting her, “Your new home awaits, Princess.”  Aria held her hands against her stomach, just as the salt air filled her nostrils and blew her curls from her shoulders.  The rocky coastline led to a large city, filled with roads and valleys out into the countryside.  

Since she had no belongings, no handmaidens to accompany her, she felt naked and exposed as she walked down the plank to the harbor dock. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes spied what she feared most.

Thomas strode towards her, arms outstretched, “My love! There you are!” His hands wrapped around her cheeks as he pressed a kiss on her lips.  She tried to struggle, but only found his arms and armor too strong to escape.  With a quick twist he wrapped her arm into his as he guided her towards the awaiting carriages.

“It is only half a day’s ride to the castle.  We shall be there before we know it.” She tried to remain calm, and hold onto the hope that she could escape somehow.  She had fared difficult times before, her strength would keep her composed.  However, a voice whispered in the back of her head, causing a shiver through her body.

_Black is an appropriate color you wear.  It will be your shroud as you face a fate worse than death._


	13. Let's Play A Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arianne meets some of the players in her new home of France, while also learning of the dangerous conditions in the country.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, my sincerest apologies to all the readers of this story. I am disappointed in myself that it's taken me 10 months to update with a new chapter. Unfortunately there were so many things that happened: changes in my life, disgust towards writing in general, lack of time- but they're all excuses. I hope to have more consistent updates as I move forward. If you're still reading: thank you, thank you, THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. 
> 
> This is a bit of a set up chapter, and there isn't much action but a lot of people and things being put into place. Let me know what you think-good or bad.

Arianne’s eyes focused on the landscape that flowed before her.  Another tense carriage ride, another sense of dread pitting in her stomach with every clop of the horse’s heels.

This time the picture became less lush, less green with each turn of the wheel.  She noted how this land encapsulated every shade of brown, combined with a dry air.

Her companion only moved his long fingers, which splayed out over a leather of deep maroon. Each digit curled in and out as if he was grasping something before letting it go.

This ride was spent in silence, a painful silence at first, but she relaxed into the relative peace.  Over and over, the sounds of the wheels, the horses, the birds chirping in the fields became her symphony.  The sounds repeated until they faded into the background like a buzzing in her ears.  

_My survival means the survival of Sofia.  I must stay strong._

Aria’s eyes drew to a black spot in the sky.  A single raven, headed the same way as them. _Could it be carrying a message?_  Without thinking, she placed her hand on the opening of the window, watching the bird disappear into the horizon.

“I feared nothing was to your liking here, Princess.  I see something has your attentions.”

Arianne refused to speak, even as he moved closer to her.  As his leg met hers, she recoiled into the door.

Thomas snorted in disgust, “Best be getting over your fears, Princess.  You and I will be spending a great deal of time together.  This should be an _enjoyable_ experience for you.”

Whether it was her exhaustion or anger or even her fear, the rein on her emotions snapped like a dry branch.  Without warning, she lunged towards Thomas’ face.

“You animal! Do you understand anything of humanity? I lost my home, my beloved—my father! All of my friends are gone because of you! For what? For your own personal good! If you think I will go quietly into this life, you are mistaken, Thomas!”

Thomas did not flinch or move during her outburst, and yet he did not attempt to push her back, either.  His blue eyes only stared into her, as if Arianne was a shell.  She realized she became an acquirement, a trophy, in his pursuit of greatness.  

“I would tell you that I cared about all those things, but in essence what I care about is the ability to bring my kingdom to the glory that is within our reach.  We need you for that.

“You’ll have a life of luxury, the finest in anything you wish or desire.  Life will be grand for you, and you wont care of such trivial things for long.” His eyes turned away from Aria as he gazed back to his window.

“Trivial? I had everything and you took it all from me,” she whispered before the tears began to fall. She hated herself for them, but they fell as if they had a will of their own.

Without looking at her, he continued, “Sometimes we need to be told what is right for us.  I had to learn what I had to do to make my land and my people safe, secure and above all else, powerful.  I would have loved to have sat on my throne and waited for greatness.  I learned I had to take it in my hands.”  Aria was relieved to have the silence return to the carriage once more, this time peppered with her restrained sobs.

In the distance, she saw a grand hill, and on it: another castle. This one was nowhere near as grand as Allerton, but still a bustling area with a small town outside of it.  As the procession came closer, Aria sensed the people around them looked weary, tired and most of all, hungry.  There was an air of respect for the line of carriages, but a sense that things could turn at any moment. _A spark could ignite the flames in these people,_ she noted.

“Ah, France! My people! Men, bring out the provisions!” Thomas bellowed as he emerged out and into the crowd.

Vegetables and bread within caskets appeared from the carts behind them.  A roar of glee burst from the crowd as each basket is removed.  The people around them bow and praise and thank the King. Aria watched as Thomas reveled in this love received out of abject fear.  In disgust, Aria turned out her window to find a small boy, his eyes sunken into this face, his hands and feet almost black from dirt.  

“Hello,” she said with a warm smile. His eyes brightened a bit before he cautiously waved his fingers.  Thomas continued to speak with the villagers on the other side of the carriage, praising all around him.  Without thinking, Aria pushed open the door and stepped out into the dirt road.  She felt the crowd around her turn, whispers beginning to rise.  Her dress dipped into the dirt, a bit of mud mottling the black hem.

She felt her smile permeate her words, “Hello, what’s your name?”

“Jean-Paul,” came the tiny reply.

“My name is Arianne, a pleasure to meet you.”  She looked at his ragged clothes and shallow breathing under protruding ribs.

“Are you hungry, Jean-Paul?”

He nods, “The crowd is too large. I’ll wait and grab the scraps afterwards.”

Her smile fixed on her lips, keeping the anger at bay, “You don’t deserve scraps, my darling.”  Upon rising, people immediately scurried backwards, their eyes wide upon her.  Harkening to her days prior to the voyage to England, her chin floated upward and she marched to the soldiers giving out food.  

“Give me some of those vegetables and fruits.”

“Wait your turn,” a large man in red and gold armor snapped at her.

“Now!” she commanded, using up a great deal of her energy in the process.  He turned with a hand raised, poised for the strike, as his eyes fall upon her. With an awkward movement, he retracted, nearly falling into the dirt.  He immediately froze in his place, pushing the basket towards her.

“Your highness.  I am sorry, please, forgive me.  Please, take whatever you want.” His voice shook as his eyes turned towards the figure behind them in leather.  By now, the crowd fixated on Arianne, focused away from their King.  A calm smile appeared on her lips, trying to alleviate their fears.  Her eyes watched as Thomas turned to the commotion that unfolded behind him.  

She pulled out several greens and fruits from the basket, enough to barely fit in the boy’s arms. Louder mentions of “Princess” gathered around her.

“Go, take this,” she murmured to the young boy, “Tomorrow, you are to return to this spot with a basket.  More will be here, do you understand?”  Two black eyes belied his gratitude before he ran as quickly as his little feet could carry him.  As she stood to watch the young boy disappear into the crowd, she felt a presence at her shoulder.  

“My love, why are you out of the carriage?” She turned to find her own painted smile matched his.

“These children are starving.  I decided I would help.”

He bent towards her, his words hissed through gritted teeth, “About time you made the realization regarding our country.  It is time to leave.”  

She handed the rest of the fruits and greens to another young child, hoping each boy had enough for the evening and beyond.  Thomas remained by the carriage, his hand on the door.

“We shall return tomorrow, as my newly betrothed has claimed.”  Murmurs gathered once more within the crowd.  Aria turned away from Thomas with a smile as she gazed kindly upon the despondent mass around them.  Aria’s heart ached with the pain of the people around her.  Never in Estines, or even in England, did she ever lay eyes upon others who had so little in their lives.  People who did not know where or when they would have their next meal.

The ride into the castle remained quiet, the boy’s face still haunting Aria as the doors closed behind them.  Her silent reverie ended when she heard a voice calling out in the courtyard.

“Thomas? Thomas! It is you! You’ve returned!”  As Aria desended from the carriage, she spied the older woman with flowing maroon robes scrambling towards Thomas.  For the first time, Aria noted that his eyes had little malice behind them upon viewing this woman.

“Grand-Mère.  How I’ve missed you.” His long arms outstretched to fully envelop the older woman as she sighs deeply into his armored chest.  They chuckled slightly upon release, her weathered hands running against the lines on his face.

Her voice grew stern, “You’re too thin, far too thin for my liking.  It’s no surprise, no one can stand that swill that they call food in Allerton.  Your Grand-Père told me stories of how they burnt and boiled all the foods and—“ Her voice halted as her eyes spied Arianne waiting by the back of the carriage.

“Oh!” came the cry while the elderly woman ambled towards her, almost causing Arianne to retreat in fear.  It took a moment for Arianne to realize that this woman meant her no harm, especially upon viewing the massive smile that has spread upon her face.

“Thomas!” she practically sings, “Who is this angel you have brought with you?”  Her hands grasped Aria’s as her deep blue eyes searched over Aria’s body.  Before the younger girl could respond, Thomas jumped in.

The half-sneer returned to Thomas’ face as he spoke, “Grand-Mère, this is Arianne, Princess of Estines.  Arianne, this is my Grandmother, Florencia, the Queen of France.”  For a moment, Aria paused before bending down and remembering her upbringing.

“Your Grace,” she managed, before her hand was taken by Thomas’.

“I am happy to announce that Arianne has agreed to a marriage between us and henceforth, this is her home.”

The Queen’s mouth dropped open with such a happy sigh that Arianne could not get the words out of the exact circumstances of that engagement.  Within seconds, Aria found herself scooped into the older woman’s arms.

“My child, welcome! Welcome to Gisors, I am happy to help you in whatever you need, and my goodness—just look at you! You as well! We need to get this child bathed and given proper food and proper clothes! Marie! Leanne!”

Two young girls scurried forth to Florencia’s side, “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Please help the Princess in any way she needs, whatever it is.” Arianne jumped as a strong hand rested on her arm.  It was similar to the fear that raised in the young girl’s eyes as they realized that the King preaparedto speak with them.

“The Princess shall take the room adjacent in my chambers.  All of you are to remain there until I can properly introduce her to the court.”  The girl’s eyes remained on their shoes and only meek sounds of understanding floated from their lips.  Both fell behind the trio as they walked to the interior of the castle.  Arianne regarded the crumbling walls, the fortifications that showed signs of years of wear.  She was so engrossed in memorizing as much as she could, she nearly missed Thomas speaking to the Queen.

“How is she?” he murmured.

The Queen sighed as a hand shook in front of her face, “She is as she always is, Thomas.  She has her good days and bad days.  Thankfully, today will be a good day! She always loves it when she hasn’t seen you in a long time, I am sure she will want you to go to her.  It always leaves her happy for at least a few days.”

Thomas allowed a morose grunt from his closed lips before turning to Arianne, “I shall visit her as soon as we are settled.  We have many things to discuss and I need to confer with my council to review what has been agreed upon with England and Estines.” He stopped the three of them before taking Arianne’s left hand.

“It is imperative that our wedding be planned and prepared as quickly as possible.  There is no time to waste, is there my love?”  He pulled her in for a kiss, Arianne fighting with every breath in her body to bite him in response.

_Sofia. I will maintain this charade for her._

“Good girl,” he murmured against her lips before they began to walk up the main entrance.  Thomas placed Aria’s hand on his Grandmother’s before he let out a long sigh.

“The council is waiting—“

“You need rest! To eat! Please, Thomas!” the Queen begged.  His head shook in the negative before he looked upon the two women.

“Later.  I have business to discuss.  Take care of her, Grand-Mère.  Arianne, I will see you for dinner this evening.” He flourished his exit with a small bow to them, and as the Queen sputtered some more, he marched with his long and purposeful stride towards another set of rooms at the other end.

“Always on the go, always working on something.  He never stops.  Never.”  The Queen looked to Aria, her eyes still shining.

Her hand patted the younger woman’s arm, “Come, darling. A bath and some food will do you good.  After all, we are to keep you happy as our newest guest and member of the family!” Arianne still felt faint and ill from all the travels, as if she was still on the boat, rocking from side to side until her head pounded and her stomach heaved.  As soon as they entered the rooms, Arianne collapsed into a chair.

The Queen gasped, “Are you all right?”

“I am…just so tired from the traveling, I think.  I need rest, please.”  Within seconds the Queen called for the  servants and they had turned down the bed in the small yet bright room.  Arianne could see from out the door that another room attached—one with a great deal of gold accents and opulent fabrics.  One meant for a King.

Her body was pulled to standing and with little fanfare, the girls had removed her dress and placed her in a shift of soft linen.  The feeling of comfortable and clean clothing for the first time in weeks brought her to the edge of tears.  

“Now, you rest,” the Queen tutted as she led Aria to the bed.  “You take your rest.  Princesses must be graceful and elegant and that does not happen without sleep, this is for sure.  Oh, how wonderful this all is.  Yes, this will make things better, so much better here.  We’ll have light and life and love and there will be a new beginning for our family.” Another happy sigh filled the room that only created more tension in Aria’s abdomen.

The Queen looked upon Aria in the bed before her voice dropped to a soothing tone, “Here I am, prattling on.  Rest, darling.  We will be here when you wake. We will take good care of you, don't you worry a single thought of that.” With hunched steps, she shooed the younger girls from the room and closed the large door.  Arianne thought for a fleeting moment that she could rush for it and run out, but her body ached from her head to her feet.  Even her dread towards what lay in the room next to her could not compare to the comfort of her bed, its silken sheets and warmth that enveloped her skin.  Within seconds, she had fallen into a slumber—not a peaceful one—but one from pure, sheer exhaustion.  

She could face her fears after some rest. At least, that was her final thought before being pulled into the darkness.


End file.
